


Had I The Heavens

by lorannah



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorannah/pseuds/lorannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam's stupid, but he has a talent that Captain John can use. Finally this is a way he can get back into the hub…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embroidered Cloth Enwrought

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can't adequately express my thanks to [info]thebirdwoman - she's managed to make this story about a bazillion times better and is an absolute star.

Adam felt the tablet; he could feel it working its way down his throat. An agonising ghost. His soul was being ripped apart, his body shuddering and disappearing. He wouldn’t go back to the void – couldn’t. He couldn’t be that measly creature, crouching in the darkness again.

He reached out for Jack’s mind, seeking it. The taste and shape of it. But the other man was already on the ground, his mind closed. There was nothing left to cling onto.

He shut his eyes… the memory of his eyes. His last defence against the void.

But the nothingness didn’t come. He could feel wooden floorboards beneath his hands… his knees. He shouldn’t even have a body. Light was beating against his eyelids. He opened them slowly.

The room was flooded with warm artificial light, rich and luxurious, like the furniture around him. He was crouched in front of a desk, just an inch of the other side showing – no feet, but was that a hand dangling down?

Adam climbed slowly to his feet. 

A man was slouched in the chair opposite him, his feet on the desk and a sword across his lap. 

“Well hello, Memory Boy,” the man drawled. Even his voice was arrogant.

“What am I doing here?” Adam spat, trying to assess the situation and moving sideways. He just needed to be close enough to touch the man; that was all it would take. “Who are you?” 

“Captain John Hart.” He raised the sword, pointing it at Adam’s chest. “Stop right there. You should show more respect to a man who has your life in his hands.”

* * * * * 

John had just been bored. Or at least that was what he’d been telling himself. He’d already admitted he was lonely to Jack once – he was quite happy wallowing in denial now.

So he’d been bored and watching Jack and the rest of Torchwood had been something to do. It hadn’t taken long to find a nice place to stay. Until recently the house had belonged to a wealthy Welsh widow, and John was good with widows. After that, hooking into the Hub’s CCTV had been ridiculously easy. They really should be embarrassed.

Mostly it was mind numbingly boring, though strangely addictive. Like Big Brother, although at least here they didn’t cover the good bits with bird song. It was worth watching, if only for the unexpected porn.

But the last few days had been surprisingly interesting – a new face and all. Sure the guy was ridiculously incompetent, but that was one hell of a talent – a talent John could use.

“How?” Adam asked.

“Well right now I’m having to keep all my attention on remembering that you exist. I wouldn’t like to forget you, now.”

“You couldn’t – human memory doesn’t work like...”

“Who on earth says I’m human?” John watched the hesitation on Adam’s face. He waved the sword around a little more for emphasis – he’d always wanted a sword. The Time Agency had frowned on them as weapons – for some reason they though they were hard to conceal.

They were silent for a few seconds. He could practically see the cogs spinning away.

“Why am I here?” Adam asked at last.

“Well, Memory Boy, for reasons that are far from apparent to me, I want to get into there,” he used the sword to gesture at the TV screens behind Adam, “And I think you might be the man to help me.”

Adam turned quickly, his eyes glancing across the screens where the team were sleeping, huddled around the board room table and Jack, alone again, in the cells. 

“Torchwood? Just tell them you’re an alien…” He sounded bitter. Bitter could be good, John thought. He could use bitter.

“I don’t want to be in a cell. I want to be one of the team.”

“I tried that, it didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work because you’re stupid and despite some rather major lapses in judgement – they aren’t.” John hesitated and then added. “At least not completely.”

“So? What’s changed?”

“This time you’ll have me to do your thinking. With me I can get us both into the team.”

“How?”

“I’m a fucking genius – especially compared to everyone else on this godforsaken rock. All I need is your special skills.”

“And why should I help you?”

“The question you should be asking, Memory Boy, is what possible way could you find of surviving if you don’t help me?” 

* * * * * 

“What are you talking about?” Ianto heard Gwen ask as she wandered past him her ear pressed to her phone. The computers were a mess – two days had just been ripped out of them. Even his recently returned diary was useless, although, he noticed, slightly scuffed. What had Jack been doing with it?

“No, no – it’s alright, I’ll come home early, there’s not much to do here anyway. We could go out for a meal – or get a takeaway… relive  Paris .” Gwen laughed delightedly and Ianto looked up just in time to see her almost skipping up the stairs to Jack’s office.

“Hey Jack, I was wondering if I could go home early? Rhys is sounding a bit odd.”

Ianto already had her coat ready and waiting by the time she was back down the stairs, Jack watching them with parent-like amusement from the gangway. She grinned at him.

“At least there’s one gentleman left around here,” she laughed loudly as he helped her slip her arms into the coat. He reached to straighten her collar and for a moment his fingers touched her neck, almost an embrace but too hard. Like they had a life… no, a memory of their own.

Gwen squirmed out of his grip giggling and he started, surprised at himself.

“So much for gentlemen - I’ve got a fiancée, remember,” she wiggled her engagement ring at him and laughed again and he laughed with her. Above her head he saw Jack frown slightly.

“Ianto, can you come here a sec?” The Captain called down. Gwen smiled at him, winked and said goodbye.

Jack was perched, leaning on his desk, when Ianto walked in, waiting.

“What was that about?” He asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Ianto replied, as he sank down into Jack’s chair and decided to ignore the fact that this was clearly meant to be an interrogation. “Nothing to be worried about.”

“How are you feeling, Ianto?” Jack always said his name softly when they were alone, like it was a treat.

“Embarrassed,” Ianto admitted and watched Jack smile slowly, “and a little confused - shouldn’t we be trying to work out what happened in the last two days?”

“You know what Owen’s tests said, we’ve all got retcon in our systems, there was obviously something that I thought it better for us to forget,” Jack told him.

“I know… but…” Ianto started, looking for a way to explain, someone else could have given them the retcon.

“Does it really bother you?” Jack interrupted.

“A bit. I’m just…” he sought for the word. “Curious.”

“Normally I’d love you to go all Scooby Gang on me, but…” Jack looked away for a moment, trying to find the right words and then looked back, his expression intent. “When I try to remember what happened, the only thing I can think is to leave well alone. I usually find it’s better to follow my instincts.”

“What if that’s what someone else wants you to think?”

“It’s not,” Jack said simply. “We don’t need to know this. Come on Ianto, when have I ever been wrong before?”

He leant forward and kissed him on the forehead. He’d never done it before. It was a soft, gentle feeling and oddly familiar.

* * * * * 

Adam was curled up in a chair, chewing his thumb. Captain John had left him alone at last, retired to his room.

His eyes flickered back to the CCTV screens. Jack and Ianto were talking in Jack’s office, but his eyes were drawn to where Toshiko was sat alone, staring at her flowers. She was still wearing the top he had chosen for her that morning. 

She looked miserable and confused and lonely. It was her loneliness that had attracted Adam in the first place. He’d recognised the void in it – and himself. He had made them better. All of them.

He wanted to go back – try again. But he couldn’t, not until he had escaped from here. From John and his rules and his research. He rose untidily from the chair, determined as he left the room.

John was flung across his bed, dead to the world. All it would take was one little touch. Adam crept closer and knelt near the bed, but as he reached out to take the dangling arm and a sword tip grazed his nose, appearing from nowhere and hovered between his eyes. Behind it, John sat up.

“Now, Memory Boy – why would you try something as stupid as that?”

Adam scrambled to his feet moving backwards quickly as John rose slowly and surely from his bed, keeping the sword level.

“You couldn’t have had that in the bed with you,” he tried to control his panic.

“I’m a man of many talents, Memory Boy,” John moved forwards until Adam was pinned by the sword against a wall. “I don’t think you’ve understood your position here, you don’t get out of this, and you don’t get away from me. You do what I say, when I say and you’re happy about it.”

“What if I don’t want to be your lapdog?”

“When did you get a choice in this?”

“Your plan won’t work without me.”

“And you don’t get to be alive without me,” John suddenly smiled viciously and stepped backwards. “I don’t even need this,” he threw the sword aside but held up a hand as Adam took a step forward. “I’ve been looking forward to trying this. Although I expected to have to wait longer – a cleverer man would have been patient, would have waited to see what would happen. Because I do remember you – you died didn’t you?”

Adam paused in confusion and John laughed.

“You were shot, I remember now,” his voice was low. “I watched you bleed to death.”

There was a sudden pain in Adam’s gut – both searing and dull. He reached down to touch it gently and his fingers came away sticky with blood. His legs buckled and he collapsed again onto knees.

“Memory doesn’t work like that,” he managed to squeeze the words past the pain.

“Mine does. Many talents remember. I can make you small or fat or tall. If I want you to be an Adonis or a woman you will be – or if I decide you’re better as a toad then I can make you that too.”

John knelt down beside him, the closest they’d ever been and whispered in his ear.

“If I’m clever enough to work that out, don’t you think I’m clever enough to make sure that you die a very painful death if you ever… and I mean ever, change my memory. We do this my way.”

He stood and left, leaving Adam gasping on the floor. His fingers stroked his stomach – the shirt was still sodden with his blood but the wound was gone.

* * * * * 

“Torchwood. Is that Torchwood?” The women on the other end of the phone sounded slightly manic. Jack frowned slightly.

“That’s us, although we don’t usually…” 

“The police said I should call you,” she interrupted him, her voice suddenly becoming brisk and very Welsh.

“Really? That was unusual of them. All right, how can we help you?” 

“I’m from the Sunny Side Animal Sanctuary and we’ve found a… well it’s a… Look it’s probably better if you see him yourself.”

Jack was about to respond when he heard a high pitched squeal from the other end of the phone. The women began to talk again, although by the sound of it she wasn’t talking to Jack – probably.

“What have you got there. Oh god, not the gas canister. Bad boy!” There was a sudden bang and the phone line went dead. Jack walked quickly to his office door, slamming it open, the others looked up at him sharply.

“Owen? Gwen? I’ve got a job for you at the Sunny Side Animal Sanctuary – do you know it?”

Gwen nodded.

“Good. I think it’d be better if you got there quickly.”

* * * * *

The remains of the building were still smouldering slightly. Although it only looked like the reception had been affected. The rest of the animal shelter sprawled out behind it – a ramshackle mess of overgrown buildings. A thin, strict looking woman was standing outside watching the firemen. 

As Gwen and Owen approached, she turned, greeting them with short, firm handshakes. 

“You must be Torchwood,” she said. Owen opened his mouth to answer but Gwen jumped in before he could say anything. Things tended to run smoother the less she let Owen talk. Tosh would probably draw a chart illustrating the fact if she asked her.

“We were told you were having trouble with an animal.”

“Yes, yes – come on, we’ve had to put him in the kennels, we were keeping him in the reception with us – he seemed to like the company and I have to admit the dogs don’t like him much, but as you can see,” she gestured to where the firemen were working.

“Err… did he do that,” Gwen asked as they followed the lady into the maze of buildings.

“Yes, yes. He was just over excited, bless him.” Gwen exchanged a look with Owen, what on earth did they have here. “He’s had a terrible life already,” the women continued, “somebody dumped him in a sack in the river. Can you imagine? He burnt through the sack of course but he got very wet…”

“Sorry, you haven’t told us your name,” Owen interrupted, rolling his eyes at Gwen.

“Mrs Cadwallader.”

“There’s a Mr…” Owen began with barely concealed surprise but Gwen interrupted him, with a quick shake of her head.

“Does the animal have a name?” She asked. Mrs Cadwallader bent to unlock a door.

“Oh no, we don’t name the animals here, it makes you too attached and then affects the rehoming.”

“You were going to rehome it?” Owen burst out and Mrs Cadwallader turned to look at him, a small frown on her face.

“Of course – that’s what we are here for.” She turned around and led them into the kennels. “He’d only have gone to a good home of course…”

“With fireproofing,” Owen muttered out of the corner of his mouth. The kennels were strangely silent, the dogs cowering in corners – looks of terror on their faces.

“… but well we just don’t have the expertise to care for him, which is why the police suggested we call you. Here we are.”

They stared down at the creature in the cage.

“Seriously?” Owen breathed in disbelief.

“Who’s a pretty boy then,” Mrs Cadwallader said warmly.

* * * * * *

It had been quiet since the temporal shift, or whatever that had been, but Ianto felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept well in days. When he did fall asleep, he woke up sweaty, tired and uncomfortable with vague memories of dark alleyways and rain.

He peered, blearily at the computer and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know why he was still digging for things from the missing 48 hours, but it was a compulsion. He’d always liked things to be complete and organised.

He’d found stuff as well – an appraisal and some emails from someone called Adam – none of which made any sense. Now he’d found what looked like a staff profile in some deleted files, but the computer was refusing to show it properly. He grunted in annoyance as another error screen flashed up and leaned back in his chair.

“Is everything ok?” Tosh asked him from across the room. Jack was busy in his office and Gwen and Owen were still at the animal sanctuary.

“I’m trying to access a deleted file, but the computer keeps coming up with error messages,” Ianto told her – there was no point lying, she’d just check what he was doing from her own computer anyway.

“That sounds like something I can help with,” she said with a smile heading over.

“Super Tosh,” Ianto laughed, willingly relinquishing his chair and pointing out the file. Up close he realised that she looked exhausted, dark shadows making her eyes look sunken.

“Are you all right?” He asked. She started to shake her head, clearly about to deny any problems, so he added: “You look tired.”

“I suppose I’ve not been sleeping too well.”

“How come?” The best time to get Tosh to talk was usually when they were alone.

“Oh it’s nothing… it’s just my bed feels empty. Somebody really didn’t want you to get to this file, did they?” She continued tapping away at the computer in silence for a few seconds. “It’s silly, it’s not like there’s been anyone… I mean not since Tommy,” her voice was quiet, “but it just started feeling like there was something missing. I’ve had to sleep on the couch… I’m just being stupid,” she finished.

She wouldn’t look up at him, her eyes fixed on the screen. There wasn’t much he could say so instead Ianto squeezed her shoulder.

“There you go,” Tosh’s voice was falsely bright as the staff profile flashed up on the screen. “I’m afraid the picture’s still jumbled. Adam Smith. Who’s that? An old team member…” she paused for a second, “wait, is this from the days we lost?”

“Yes, I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell Jack – he didn’t want me looking into it.”

“Naughty,” she teased him, her voice back to normal.

“Ianto!” Jack called from his office, making them both jump. Tosh’ at least had the common sense to minimize the profile. “Could you make me one of your wonderful coffees?”

“Right away,” Ianto replied, winking at Tosh as he headed for the kitchen.

He took his time making the coffee, making sure it was exactly how Jack liked it. He was hoping he was in a good mood. He had something to ask him.

The wedding invitation had arrived two weeks ago and was still nestled carefully in the inner pocket of his jacket where he’d put it the day it came. Paul and Sabrina. Friends of his from  London , his and Lisa’s – he hadn’t seen them since  Canary Wharf . They knew she had died of course, they’d tried to call him more than once, but he’d been busy with Lisa and moving and Torchwood 3 and after a while they’d stopped trying.

And now the invitation had turned up – “Ianto Jones plus one”.

It had taken a while to admit to himself that he wanted Jack to come with him. He knew the people who didn’t know him that well would be surprised, probably scandalised knowing Jack, but it was better than facing the pitying smiles alone. 

Ianto still wasn’t actually sure what he and Jack had. It wasn’t a normal relationship and romantic weekends away and going to weddings might not be a step Jack was expecting to take. He wasn’t sure that was the sort of relationship that Jack wanted – he wasn’t even sure, when it came down to it, that that was the sort of relationship he wanted.

He carried the coffee carefully into the office where Jack was absorbed in paperwork. 

“Thanks,” Jack grinned up at him briefly and then turned back to his paperwork.

“Anything to be of service, we can’t have you getting tired on the job,” Jack didn’t look up from the work but Ianto saw the smile flicker across his face. He hesitated for a moment and Jack looked up again.

“Anything wrong?”

“Ummm… some of my friends are getting married, next weekend… in  London ,” that wasn’t how he had meant to start.

“That’s a bit sudden isn’t it? Well I guess we’ll just have to cope without you. How long do you need off?” Jack asked and Ianto faltered for a second, trying to think of a way to get the conversation back on course.

“Well I was thinking of making a weekend of it, thought I could rent a nice hotel room…” he left the sentence hanging, hoping that Jack would notice the invitation.

“Good idea, you could do with some time off,” Jack was staring back at the paperwork again, his brow slightly furrowed, utterly distracted. After a few seconds he looked up at Ianto. “Don’t worry, really, we’ll cope without you – I’ll keep everyone in check.”

A strange high pitched roar interrupted them before Ianto could respond and then Owen’s voice called out.

“Jack, I really think you should see this!”

* * * * * *

They stared up at the creature perched on the gangway above them. There was just no denying it – it was a dragon. A small one. At least for the moment. But still a dragon. It was red.

Ianto appeared at the top of the gangway with a book in his hand, he hesitated, looking sideways at the dragon and then hurried down the stairs, flipping the book open.

“As man came, the dragons went,” he began to read out loud, and Jack had to suppress a smile. He always seemed much calmer and confident while buried in research and he had to admit he always enjoyed hearing Ianto reading – his voice soft and measured."Brief though the contact was, compared to the enormous spans of time in which species mature and flourish and die out, they have left their mark on us. Though their metabolic…”

“Why does our reference library have books on dragons?” Owen interrupted him.

“Book,” Ianto corrected calmly. “I thought it might be useful.”

“Useful – a useful reference book on dragons – which, unless I’ve missed something, are big, fire-breathing _mythological_ creatures.”

“Probably mythological.”

“What?”

“Well they’re only probably mythological,” Ianto explained.

“I think if dragons had existed then we’d have learnt about it by now – there would have at least been bones or something.”

“Not necessarily – it has been suggested that dragons would have needed lightweight hollow bones to enable them to fly, like birds, which wouldn’t have survived well once they died. After all, absence of evidence is never acceptable evidence for absence. There’s been quite…”

Owen and Ianto looked ready to settle in for a debate when Jack decided it would be a good time to interrupt.

“I’d like to point out that right now we have some rather excellent evidence for dragons right here,” he gestured to the dragon which emitted a perfectly timed, very fiery belch. Ianto frowned slightly; apparently on the way into the hub it had eaten the collection tin.

“Well,” Owen said defiantly, “that one definitely doesn’t have lightweight bones, it weighed a bloody tonne.”

“You picked it up?” Tosh asked, genuine surprise in her voice.

“I didn’t have a choice – that madwoman just dumped it in my arms.”

“She wasn’t mad,” Gwen corrected him.

“She wanted to rehome it – she was like a crazy old cat lady on speed.”

“She was just well meaning,” Gwen replied diplomatically.

“Yes, well you could say that about Harold Shipman but…”

“Anyway,” Ianto interrupted giving Jack a pointed look, “Do you know of any planets that happen to have dragons? It might have come through the rift.”

“Nope, it’s a new one for me,” Jack interrupted.

“It’s strange though,” said Owen, “because Ianto’s right. To fly it would need to be lightweight – like Myfanwy – but it certainly isn’t.”

“Well we all saw it fly,” Tosh pointed out. Owen’s short lived attempt to do tests on the dragon, had ended with it biting the machine, squealing in pain and suddenly taking off. It had hovered about them for a few seconds, before settling on the railing. 

“It shouldn’t be able to breathe fire either,” Owen continued, “the brief scan I managed shows there’s nothing in there that could possibly produce fire. It’s like a kid drew what they thought a dragon should be and somehow it just all works.”

“Well, the real question is what we’re going to do with it,” Gwen pointed out.

“We’d need to work out what planet it came from, before we could send it back through the rift – and that’s going to be difficult, because we have no idea when it arrived.” Tosh turned back to her computer. “Plus, even if we did, it might be ages before a portal to the right planet opens again. It’d be a shame to get rid of it though. We could learn a lot from it…”

“We’ll just have to keep it here,” Jack said firmly. Ianto rolled his eyes and muttered something in Welsh. Gwen laughed. “Got a problem?” Jack asked him with a grin.

“I was just wondering what we were going to do once it has eaten the rest of the Hub?”

“Well, we’ll just have to train it not to. We managed with Myfanwy, didn’t we?”

“Suzie was in charge of that.”

“You’ll just have to check her notes. Anyway, maybe Myfanwy will help.”

“Yes,” Owen interrupted. “She might eat the little sod.”

“I suppose if we’re going to keep it,” Tosh said, “we should give it a name.”

“Errol,” Ianto said slightly quicker than was necessary and Jack noticed that he flushed slightly, obviously realising his mistake.

“Errol?” Owen said.

“It’s a good name for a dragon,” he offered weakly.

“All right - Errol,” Jack agreed with a wink.

“Can we stop letting Ianto name everything?” Owen asked as the dragon yawned disconcertingly.


	2. The Dim and the Dark Cloths

John flicked idly through the gossip magazine – affairs, drugs, breakdowns – tame stuff. Hells, this world was dull. But it was still better than doing more research. He preferred to act on his impulses, within the beat of a moment. But Jack had taught him years ago that just because something was unpleasant didn’t mean it was unnecessary. Of course, Jack had taught him a lot of things – some of them quite inventive. 

Adam was sitting in a corner, sifting through piles of print-outs and scribbled notes. For someone who had shown little inclination towards research before, he was surprisingly competent. Every now and then he checked something on his computer.

A few days before John had taken Adam for a test run at a computer store. It was surprising what you could get away with when people honestly remembered you giving them money. They were now well supplied with equipment – it was probably Toshiko’s idea of a wet dream. 

It was only once he’d read the same sentence about some pop star’s new tattoo three times that he noticed his wrist strap had begun to emit a low, persistent beeping. He’d left it doing a deep level scan of the hubs computers, to see if there was anything they’d missed He glanced up at the screen in front of him.

“Someone has a hidden folder,” he said and Adam glanced in his direction. “Ah… Eyecandy…” He opened the folder and then leaned back, rubbing his head in annoyance. “It appears that Jack didn’t delete your stuff as well as he thought. He’s getting shoddy.” 

“Shit,” Adam swore behind him, “Ianto ruined everything last time.”

“Hmmm… he does rather get in the way,” John wasn’t really paying attention but his mind paused for a second. Ianto Jones had been the one team member to surprise him, just for a second as the boy forced the lift doors open, ignored the gun and demanded to be told what he’d done – John had felt surprised. Of course they’d all surprised him in the end, especially Jack. 

“What are we going to do? If they find the files once we’ve started, then everything will fall apart.” John felt a moment of satisfaction; Adam wasn’t even thinking anymore, he was just obeying. He really was stupid.

“It won’t be a problem. Files we can delete. But if he’s remembering you then it might be trouble,” John was thinking out loud. He liked the sound of his own voice and it was how he worked best.

“He doesn’t remember me; Jack made them all take that pill…”

“Retcon's not perfect. It never has been, even in the future. People fight it,” John was thinking out loud. “We need to know. Go to the Plass – bump into him – see whether he recognises your face. But that’s it, don’t do anything stupid, remember: only one of us has the right to think in this relationship.” 

John couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding as Adam headed immediately for the door.

 

* * * * *

Ianto hesitated for a moment before heading into the hub. Last time Errol had decided to practice pouncing he’d been carrying a full tray of coffee. It had been caught on the CCTV cameras and he was still trying to live it down. Owen particularly had a habit of rewatching it every time he knew Ianto was around.

Thankfully things with the dragon seemed to be working out – mostly. Tosh had invented a chemical inhibitor that stopped him flaming and they’d managed to find a way to stop Errol eating everything in sight, even if it meant most of the Hub now smelled of linseed oil, but they were still trying to convince the dragon that they weren’t all large chew toys and he was still ripping up the Hub’s furniture every time he got bored. At least most of the stuff he ruined belonged to Owen. Owen was shouting now.

“I’m going to kill the little bastard!” 

“If you’re talking about Jack, I will have to put it down in your personnel report,” Ianto told him wryly from the doorway. Owen spun round angrily, gesturing behind him.

“He’s stolen my jacket!” The ‘he’ was obvious. Errol was crouched above Owen on the gangway, dangling the jacket by its arm, just out of reach. Clearly wanting to play. Tosh and Gwen were watching the scene in obvious amusement and if Ianto wasn’t mistaken Jack, who he could just see in his office, was paying less attention to the work on his desk than was entirely proper. 

“Why me?! Why is it always me?” Owen spat out in exasperation.

“He knows you don’t like him,” Tosh suggested, “Animals have a sixth sense about these things.” 

“He’s not an animal – he’s a rabid, impossible, little demon.” Owen’s studies had yet to reveal anything about Errol that could be counted as making logical sense. He was taking the failure personally.

Ironically the truth of the matter was that out of all of them, Errol, in his coquettish, inconsistent, cattish way, probably liked Owen the best. Ianto would get his slightly aggressive, loving attention when he was hungry, but it was Owen Errol doted on. He spent hours curled up beside Owen’s desk and Ianto had even caught Owen absentmindedly scratching him on the neck while he was, blatantly and unconcernedly, playing cards on his computer. 

Owen made a sudden grab for the jacket, missed as Errol jerked it out of the way and nearly fell to the floor, swearing. The others laughed. Then with a nasty tearing sound Errol ripped the jacket in half and began to chew insolently - if dragons could be insolent. Owen made a sound like a seal choking.

“But… But I loved that jacket.”

“Well, you did refuse to let us coat it in the spray,” Gwen told him. 

“I believe you said it would have a negative impact upon your sexual charms,” Ianto added with mock helpfulness.

“Are you here for anything important, Ianto, or have you just come down to make my already-wonderful life more fucking ridiculous?” Owen asked him bitterly. 

“Actually I just came down to say bye, I’m off for the weekend. Making your life miserable is an added bonus.” Owen laughed sharply without humour, all sullen anger, albeit with about as much commitment as a mayfly.

Jack hurried down the stairs, pausing only briefly to rub Errol’s nose, as Gwen and Tosh told him to have a good time at the weekend and wished him goodbye. Ianto struggled to stop his eyes following him and to squash the desperate hope that Jack might be coming to ask him to stay… or to come with him. But all his hints had been ignored so far, and there was no reason to think that this would be any different. 

“I’ll come up to lock the door after you,” Jack said, dragging him away. Ianto heard Tosh giggle and then Gwen called after them:

“Be gentle with him, Jack.” 

In a moment they were at the door of the tourist office, Jack holding it slightly ajar, his hand on Ianto’s hip pulling him in closer.

“I don’t have to go,” Ianto said suddenly. It sounded more vulnerable than he’d intended. “I could stay. Someone should be keeping an eye on Errol…” he tried keeping his voice even. 

“We _will _manage without you, you know, it’s only three days – I think we can just about cope,” Jack replied with a grin, his eyes tracing the line of Ianto’s lips and then he leaned in for a kiss. Slow and soft, for a change.

“OK, maybe it will be harder than I thought,” Jack said as they broke apart, his eyes merry and he laughed. “Come on Ianto, don’t worry about us, go – see your friends, have a rest – we all need to get away from this sometimes.”  

“All right,” he was already out of the door when Jack grabbed his hand again.

“Just make sure you come back quickly, OK? Because I’ll miss you,” it was simple and honest and partnered with a kiss. Quick and sudden and gone in a moment, leaving Ianto staring at the door for a second, knowing the room behind it was already empty again. 

As he turned to leave, he bumped into a slight man with sandy ginger hair.

“Sorry,” Ianto said automatically. It was a moment before he realised that the man was gripping his coat sleeve and there wasn’t enough time for him to notice the stun gun.

 

* * * * * 

Adam let Ianto fall to the floor, face first. He was only just beginning to stir. Getting him back to John’s house had been difficult, but manageable. He’d used Ianto’s car.

Opening the boot had confirmed what he’d already expected – the man was a freak. Everything had been neatly in place, tools and spare parts and essentials for a break down. Like some overgrown Boy Scout. 

He’d been pleasantly surprised to find a roll of electrical tape and now Ianto’s hands were securely tied behind his back. There had been no sign of the diary though – that was more of a worry. What sort of grown man kept a diary anyway?

Ianto groaned and Adam rolled him onto his back, kneeling down to secure his feet. Once the job was done, he pulled over a chair and sat down to wait.  

It was another ten minutes before Ianto opened his eyes, he blinked twice and then his eyes darted around the room before settling on where Adam loomed above him.

“Who are you?” He asked. Well, that was John’s question answered.  

Adam reached down, pressing his fingers against his cheek, ignoring how Ianto flinched away.

“Remem…” Before he could finish, Ianto’s eyes widened and swept past him to the doorway. 

“You.”

Adam spun quickly from the chair, knocking it over. John was in the doorway, his hair slightly damp and a towel in his hand. He only paused for a second, taking in the scene and then his hand was on Adam’s throat, throwing him against the wall and pinning him there.

It was the first time that John had touched him and for a moment Adam considered doing something, but the memory of a biting pain in his stomach stopped him. 

“What the hell have you done?” John growled.

“Get off me,” Adam pushed him away, hard. John released him, but only took a single step backwards. 

“I just told you to find out if he recognised you. I can’t believe that the first time I let you out of my sight, you’ve already managed to ruin everything. I’ve met some stupid…”

“Shut up,” Adam said angrily. “I’ve not ruined everything.” 

“Oh yes? What do you think Jack’s going to do once he realises his boyfriend is missing? Shit.” John stalked away, and leapt into the large, comfortable chair in front of his computer. Ianto was watching them, silently.

“He won’t even know – not for days. They think he’s gone to London for the weekend.” John paused for a second and turned to look at where Ianto was lying. Their eyes met for an instant and then he turned back to the screen, scrolling through the CCTV footage from the last few hours, occasionally pausing to delete something, copying other files into its place. 

“Fine. And what are you planning to do once the weekend’s over?”  He asked after a while, his voice heavy with sarcasm. It was Adam’s turn to hesitate then, he knew what he wanted to do, but convincing John was another matter.

“I thought we could already be part of the team by then – I could make them forget that he ever existed.” 

“It wouldn’t work. There’re too many things with his name on in there, unless…” John started and then shut his mouth firmly, deleting another piece of footage. He glanced back at Ianto, stood and walked slowly over to where the boy lay. Their eyes met, John’s gaze coolly considering, Ianto’s carefully blank. “See? He’s clever. He’s just lying there, listening, working out what’s going on and looking for a way out. What about the information we still need?”

“I can take it from him,” Adam said trying to keep the excitement from his voice, “Like you said: he listens, he knows everything about that place. He can tell us whatever we need to know.” John ignored him, staring down at Ianto.

“It’s not been your week, has it, Eyecandy?” 

“He ruined my plans last time, if he’s not there…” Adam tried again and John looked up at him sharply.

“No. He just figured you out – you ruined your own plans. Fine we’ll do this your way, but let’s get one thing straight – you don’t touch him,” he gestured at Ianto, “unless I’m in the room.”  

He turned to the desk behind him, grabbed a camera from the mess and snapped an unexpected photo of Adam. “Congratulations, Memory Boy, from now on you get to be Ianto bloody Jones.”

 

* * * * *

Owen and Gwen were already outside when Tosh arrived, Owen fumbling sleepily as he unlocked the door with a yawn. 

“So Jack called you as well,” Tosh said.

“I think our contracts should make it clear that us working here doesn’t mean he can call us at 6am on a Sunday morning,” Owen grumbled. Despite herself, Tosh smiled. 

“Did he sound slightly panicked to any of you?” Gwen asked, frowning slightly.

“Now that you mention it…” Tosh began but Owen interrupted her. 

“He probably just doesn’t know where Ianto keeps the milk.”

Jacks phone call had been a brief flurry of worried mutters and rushed commands that she’d barely registered in her half-asleep state, but he had sounded panicked. Tosh really hoped the world wasn’t ending again. 

Jack was waiting for them just outside the main hub, wearing Suzie’s old welding coat and looking slightly singed.

“Jack, if you’ve called us in for some kinky sex games I feel obliged to point out that very few people are sexually aroused at 6am…” Gwen told him sternly. In spite of himself, Jack grinned. 

“Actually, you’d be surprised...”

“What’s happened?” Owen interrupted. 

“It’s Errol, he’s being a little… frisky.” There was a slightly manic edge to Jack’s smile now.

'Frisky' wasn’t quite the word. Errol was clearly wired. His wide eyes rolled wildly as he gripped the sub-etheric resonator. The Hub was a wreck. It looked like it had been torn to pieces and some of it was still smoking.  

“What did you do?!” Tosh asked Jack.

“Well I might have accidentally mixed up Errol and Myfanwy’s food,” he replied sheepishly. 

“Jack – Errol is fed dog food, plain, bog standard dog food from a tin… how could you get that mixed up?” Owen edged closer to his desk.

“The other stuff was in a tin as well,” Jack said defensively as Errol let out a steady stream of flame.

“Oh, hell. You didn’t…” Owen began. 

“I thought Myfanwy was fed on normal meat?” Gwen interrupted.

“Mostly,” Owen explained quickly, his mouth struggling to keep up with his mind, “But most animals’ biological makeup has changed in the last 65 million years, so once a week Ianto puts out food with a special chemical compound added to make sure that she gets all the minerals and bits and pieces she needs… which would explain the flames – it’s cancelled out the inhibitor.” 

Errol was watching him as he reached his desk, his long neck snaking from side to side. Owen scrabbled in one of the drawers for a second.

“Have you got a plan, Owen?” Jack asked. 

“I’m the improvisor,” he replied softly, “Here we go. If I can just give him this injection, it’ll put him to sleep until the affects of the compound wear off.”

“OK, nobody make any sudden movements,” Jack said but as Owen turned back to face Errol, the needle held in his fingers, the dragon suddenly leapt, pinning him to the ground. Owen shrieked and Tosh felt her heart miss a beat. Almost in slow motion, she saw Errol’s mouth begin to open. On either side of her Jack and Gwen, recovering from their shock, began to move forward. Fast. Then Errol licked Owen’s face.  

Five minutes later, Errol was curled up asleep under Owen’s desk and everyone, except Owen, was laughing.

“It’s not funny all right?” he snapped at them, pulling his coat on. 

“I think Ianto would disagree,” Gwen pointed out. “You should start an ‘I’ve been pounced on by dragons’ club – you could relive your traumatic experiences and shriek like girls…”

“Actually I thought Ianto’s was more of a surprised roar - quite manly,” Jack interrupted. 

“Well he wasn’t pounced on by a _fire-breathing_ little monster,” Owen spat.

“What are we going to do about the hub?” Tosh asked Jack. The place still looked like a very small, smoky hurricane had it. 

“Ianto’s back tomorrow, he can deal with it,” Owen said, grinning suddenly.

“I’ll clean it up,” Jack grimaced.  

“Do you need any help?” Tosh ignored Owen’s look of disgust.

“Go, go,” Jack waved them out of the door, “enjoy the rest of your weekend.”  

Tosh glanced sideways at Owen as they reached the door of the visitors’ centre.

“So, have you got any plans today?” She asked trying to keep her voice bright and easy. 

“No,” he replied shortly and then glanced up at her, “How about you?”

“Not really. Just shopping, or I’ll have to resort to eating the house plants.” 

“Well, do you fancy meeting up for a drink later?” He asked, his tone offhand.

“Of course,” Tosh replied. Was this a date? 

“What about you Gwen?” Owen asked and Tosh had to keep the disappointment from her face. Gwen shook her head with a grin.

“Rhys is making spaghetti bolognese. We’re going to have a quiet night in.” 

“Great,” Owen rolled his eyes, “God it’s depressing that my entire social life revolves around this place. I’ll see you at the pub at seven, all right, Tosh?”

 

* * * * *

John sorted through his bag again, making sure everything they needed was there.

“Don’t do this,” Ianto said behind him.  

He hadn’t spoken much since he’d been brought here, even while Adam had picked him apart as John watched on carefully, he’d kept silent. They hadn’t managed to find out everything, but they’d found out enough.

John didn’t turn round, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to the pile of photos. Ianto smiled up at him, squinting slightly into the sunlight. They’d gone through his flat carefully, removing any evidence of who Ianto Jones really was and carefully replaced them with images of Adam. 

“He won’t forgive you,” Ianto tried again, “If you do this, he won’t ever forgive you.” John turned to look at him then. They’d padlocked him to a chair.

“He won’t even know I’ve done anything.” 

“He’ll work it out, he’ll…” Ianto hesitated and John laughed.

“He’ll what, Eyecandy? He’ll remember you? Don’t flatter yourself.” He picked up the pile of photos and threw them in the metal bin at his feet. “You know, I’m doing you a favour. He would have left you in the end anyway.” They were silent for a few moments.

“You don’t know that.” Ianto’s voice was low and soft, his eyes fixed on the arm of his chair. John grabbed his bottle of vodka and took a long gulp. 

“Really? He left me.”

“He’s changed.” 

“Nobody changes,” John walked closer, crouching in front of the chair. “I was with him for five years – five years of thinking I meant everything to him He was my mentor – and then we got out of the time loop and he left. He didn’t even look back. That’s exactly the sort of person he is, Eyecandy. Drink this,” he pushed the bottle of vodka against Ianto’s lips, watching as he winced, “We’re going to be gone for a while and I don’t want you to be thirsty.”

As he pulled the bottle away, the vodka sloshed across Ianto’s chin. John reached up to brush it away, meeting Ianto’s eyes. His fingers grazed the boy’s lips. He paused. After a moment Ianto looked away.  

“I don’t even know what he sees in you,” John said angrily and then stood quickly. He had seen the way that Jack looked at Ianto when they were alone as if he was the most wondrous, adorable thing he’d ever seen, as if he didn’t quite believe he was real.

He reached to put the vodka bottle back on the table and then hesitated for a second and dribbled a few drops into the bin. Carefully, he removed a match from the table, lit it and turned back to face Ianto.

“But I guess he won’t be seeing it much longer,” he let the match fall into the bin and was greeted by a rapid breath of acrid smoke. Ianto blinked once, but didn’t show any other emotion. John had wanted a reaction. He gritted his teeth, but didn’t do anything else to show his disappointment. He was scared of hurting Ianto Jones too much. John had seen Jack when he was angry.

“If… if this doesn’t work, remember that I didn’t let Adam mess with you,” he regretted saying it immediately and turned back to his bag. After a few more seconds he poured some water into the bin, but still didn’t look round. 

“Ready to go?” Adam asked from the doorway.

* * * * *

Tosh shifted the shopping bags in her arms again, trying to find the keys in her pocket. She always bought too much food; it was probably a side effect of never knowing when you’d next have time to go to the shops. 

Today she’d also bought a dress. It had been an impulse buy. At the time she’d thought she could wear it to see Owen that night. Now she wasn’t so sure - she knew he’d probably tease her and she was fed up of seeming desperate.

Her fingers finally found the missing keys and began to edge them out of her pocket.

“Damn,” she swore softly as she felt them tumble to the floor with a clatter. She started to bend down, uncomfortably aware that she was in danger of losing all her shopping, when someone else spoke.

“Let me.” It was a man, kind of cute, short with floppy hair. Like Owen when they’d first met, although he thoroughly denied the floppy hair now. He must be new to the apartments. “Do you want me to unlock the door?” He asked and bit his lip slightly. Tosh grinned at him. 

“That’d be great, thanks.” He held the door open for her and she inched past him. It was only once she was in the hallway and turned back to say thank you and retrieve her keys that Tosh spotted John. She gasped and backed away quickly, reaching for the ear piece that wasn’t there. Before she had time to do anything else, he was upon her, a needle piercing her neck.

* * * * * 

Tosh collapsed almost immediately, Adam only just got to her in time to catch her, shoving John aside. “Get the shopping,” he called behind him as he carried her up to her flat and was pleased to hear John swearing. It only took a moment to let himself into the flat; he’d done it before.

He laid Tosh gently on the bed, and sat behind her, brushing the hair away from her face. 

“Don’t touch her,” John snapped from the doorway to the bedroom as he ungraciously dropped the shopping bags. Adam turned to him, angrily.

“I wasn’t.” 

“Remember the rules – nothing that changes who they are, no making yourself important, no messing me around. Just make sure she remembers that you’re Ianto Jones and that I never betrayed them.”

“Fine,” Adam reached out laying his hand against Tosh’s cheek, John snatched it back, holding his wrist firmly and pulling him to his feet. 

“I mean it,” his voice was low, “She’s off-limits to you, understand?” Adam nodded in response. “Now check whether there’s anything new that we should know.”

Adam knelt beside the bed, and reached for Tosh again, this time he pressed his fingers against her neck, just below her ear. He sifted through the recent memories gently and then stopped.

“What is it?” John asked, noticing the suddenly rigid set of Adam’s shoulders. 

“She’s supposed to be meeting Owen at the pub later,” Adam replied just managing to keep the tightness and hurt out of his voice.

“Ah, a date! About bloody time, those two are worse than the soaps. At least we know where to find Dr. Harper now - that will save us time. Now get on with it, the sooner we’re finished the better. Oh and you’d better remove the memory of that date, or she’ll wonder why she missed it.”

Adam sat still for a few seconds, his fingers still on Tosh’s neck, feeling the steady beat of her pulse. Then he began. He worked in silence, carefully picking his way through her mind, plucking away unimportant memories and easing the new ones into place.  

Explaining to John how this worked had been difficult – it wasn’t an exact science. It was emotional and instinctive, working out what memories needed to be changed, repressing the old ones until they were almost invisible and making room for what was to come. He could have simply deleted the old memories; that was safer for large stuff, the things it was hard for people to forget. There were ways to stop memories from ever resurfacing, small localised brain damage. John had been fascinated by that – but it was difficult. 

John sighed behind him. 

“We’re going to have to put her shopping away, aren’t we? Another job for you.”

  
* * * * *  

Owen glanced at his watch again, it was starting to look decidedly like he’d been stood up… by Tosh. Sometimes just when you thought your life had hit an all time low, it found whole new depths to sink to.

“Stood up again?” The bar maid asked with a smirk and Owen decided he was really going to have to stop meeting his dates here. He grinned at her humourlessly.

“Here,” she pushed a pint towards him. 

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t thank me mate, it’s a present from a secret admirer,” she winked at him, “At least you’ve caught someone’s eye.”  

Owen didn’t even bother to look round. He had no interest in playing games, if whoever had sent the pint was interested they’d have to come to him.

He’d nearly finished drinking it when John slid into the seat next to him. Owen glanced at him, took a moment to recognise him and then pushed himself, angrily, to his feet. Almost immediately he stumbled and John caught him. 

“Sorry, looks like our friend can’t handle his beer,” Owen heard John say, as the world twisted and toppled around him, “We’ll make sure he gets home all right.”

* * * * * 

Gwen snuggled deeper into Rhys’ neck, enjoying the sensation as he laughed.

“Come on, you mad woman, we need to do the washing up,” he chided her warmly.

“Can’t we leave it until tomorrow?” She asked crawling onto his lap, “I’ve done enough cleaning for today.” 

“You mean can’t I do it tomorrow while you work late again,” he grinned and pulled her into a kiss. She smiled against his lips, breaking away slightly.

“Of course.” They kissed again, deeper this time and Gwen couldn’t help but groan as the doorbell interrupted them. 

“We could just ignore it,” she suggested, but he pushed her back onto the sofa, getting to his feet.

“You go and check who’s at the door and I’ll do the washing up.” She sighed melodramatically and then did what he said. 

She’d barely opened the door a crack when it was slammed open, knocking her painfully against the wall. Gwen barely had time to register that it was Captain John. She heard Rhys call her name, and managed to kick John once before the needle sank into her neck.

* * * * *

Jack wandered back into his office. he’d thought he’d heard a noise but it had turned out to be nothing. He picked up his coffee, took a deep sip and then grimaced. Too sweet and somehow he’d made it taste like chemicals.  

He’d be glad when Ianto was back. Even if he was going to be told off for the state of the Hub. He’d done his best, everything was back in the right place – as far as he could remember – but it wasn’t like he could hang up posters to cover the scorch marks. At least Errol seemed none the worst for wear.

Jack drank the rest of the coffee quickly, reminding himself that he was drinking it for the energy boost and not the taste and settled down to finish his paperwork. 

After about ten minutes he heard another noise. He was certain about it this time - there was somebody outside his office. It was probably Ianto back early. Jack grinned.

“Couldn’t bear to stay away?” Jack called, scribbling one final note before looking up. 

“That’s right,” John replied.

“I told you to stay away from here,” Jack said firmly. He wasn’t going to get caught up in this again. 

“Well, you know, you’re just addictive,” John took a step forward and Jack pulled out his gun, rising to his feet in one steady motion.

“Stay there.” 

“Fine, it doesn’t make any difference anyway,” John paused, obviously noting the confusion on Jack’s face. He smiled. “I drugged your coffee,” he added as Jack began to topple forward.

* * * * *

“Remove all the memories of him and Ianto, of them together. Delete them, scourge them from his mind, wipe him clean – whatever it is you do,” John’s face was set and emotionless. “I want them gone.”

“I told you that was dangerous… it could go wrong,” Adam replied.

“Then be careful.” 

Adam worked slowly, erasing some of the memories. Longing looks and kisses and soft, unsubtle, touches. But he didn’t remove all of them: he left the most treasured behind. When he took memories away, they were gone, forever. If he just suppressed them, covered them with new memories and ideas, they could come back whenever he wanted.

And one day he might need Jack to remember how he felt about Ianto Jones. 

It wasn’t as if John would ever find out.


	3. Half-Light

Jack rolled over, pressing his face into the mattress, and groaned. He felt like he’d been run over by a lorry. Surely nothing on earth should make him feel like this – some other planets, possibly, but not earth. 

He tried to remember what he’d done last night, but there was just a blank where the memories should have been. The last thing he remembered was Errol going haywire and then he’d called the team in… He grasped for a second at the memories, but they slipped away.

Giving up, he gingerly pulled on a shirt and climbed out of his hole, blinking in the brightness. John was sat at his desk, feet on the table, flicking through one of his sci-fi novels. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jack demanded. John blinked at him in surprise for a moment and then grinned sardonically.

“Charming.” 

“You never come to work early,” Jack pointed out.

“Correction. I never come early in anything – but, as I didn’t go home last night, that’s not really relevant is it?” John laughed at Jack’s confusion, “You really don’t remember? I mean, I know we drank a lot, but if you can forget me, then you really must be getting old. Can’t handle your alcohol any more.” 

“Oh god, we didn’t?” Jack wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“We weren’t that drunk, and anyway you weren’t capable – I practically had to carry you back here.” John waved the book at him. “Really?” 

Jack ignored him and checked himself in the mirror. He looked terrible.

“By the way,” John continued companionably, “The police called, they’ve got a suspicious murder for us.” 

Jack turned back to look at him. He was still flicking through the book, unhurriedly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I just did.”

“We’ll need to call the…” 

“Already done, they’re going to meet us there,” John grinned, “See you’re not the only sensible, responsible one.”

 * * * * *

Owen yawned as he bent closer to examine the remains; he turned it over carefully with a pen, not really wanting to touch the bloody mess. It looked like a hand, or part of one.

It was too bloody early for this sort of thing and he felt exhausted, although god knows why, it wasn’t like he had gone out last night. He yawned again and glanced round the room. 

It was a typical terraced house – small, cramped and outdated. Of course, most terraced houses didn’t have living rooms covered in blood and body parts – well, not until Torchwood was called in anyway, he mentally amended. It was surprising how familiar some things could become.

Jack and John were standing outside, just visible through the window. Jack looked knackered. They were talking to Detective Swanson and from her pursed mouth Owen guessed she didn’t like what they were saying. Actually, it might just have been John. Owen didn’t think she’d met him before and he did rather have that affect on people. 

Owen began to pick his way through the remains. Tosh was stood nearby, frowning at one of her machines; Ianto was stood in the corner looking uncomfortable and slightly uncertain of himself. Perhaps he had a blood phobia or something; Owen paused for a second wondering if it would be a step too far to mock him about it later.

As he moved closer to the living room door he could see Gwen in the hallway. She was sitting on the stairs beside the daughter – the girl couldn’t have been more than twenty, all wide eyed, pale and traumatized. Gwen was talking in soft tones, but the girl just kept shaking her head, not replying. Owen couldn’t blame her, finding that your father had been murdered was one thing, and this was insane. 

He stopped, finding what he had been looking for – it looked vaguely like an arm. Grimacing, he picked it up and carried it back across the room to the hand. They were definitely a pair. He bent in closer to look at the place where they should have joined.

 

* * * * *

“Ianto, could you go and get us some of your wonderful cups of coffee?” Jack asked with a grin as Adam was just about to sit down. He hesitated for a second, smiled and nodded.

The coffee machine was terrifying. Handles and cogs and more parts than seemed absolutely necessary. Adam fumbled in his pocket, careful to check that they were all still in the board room and pulled out the instructions he’d managed to get from Ianto and the detailed list of what everyone drank and which cups they each liked. 

He grimaced, as the machine worked, occasionally sending a spatter of brown sticky liquid in his direction. It had been much more enjoyable being second in command. By the third attempt he’d managed to make something that looked vaguely like coffee.

The team were already deep in discussion when he returned to the room and began to distribute the cups amongst them. John was being uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Could it have been another cell?” Gwen was asking.

“No,” Owen replied, “There were definitely no cut marks or stab wounds, and that arm thing was the only weapon they had. It was more like the flesh had been torn and the bones were just snapped.” 

“What about an explosion? A bomb?” Gwen asked. “They had those as well.”

“Don’t think so – I haven’t found any scorched flesh yet and if he had exploded I would have expected the room to be more damaged than that. It was more like he was ripped apart piece by piece and then scattered – there was no order to where the body parts were.” 

Adam paused as he handed Jack his coffee. He could feel the closeness of his mind, a kaleidoscopic brilliance of memories; he just wanted to reach out and touch him. Jack grinned up at him for a second, took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. He turned back to the rest of the team quickly, setting the mug aside.

“What about you, Tosh? Anything turn up in the readings?” He asked. 

“There was definitely some sort of energy in the room, not something we’ve seen before, though, and it was dissipating fast – I only managed to get a few readings.” Adam smiled at her as he handed her a mug, but she didn’t notice. Disappointed, he settled back into his chair.

“And the girl didn’t hear anything?” Jack asked Gwen. 

“I don’t think so, she didn’t say much – just that she was asleep and when she woke up she found him. She wasn’t really in a state to talk.”

“Right, well - we’re not going to get much further until we have more information,” Jack said firmly, standing up. 

“Tosh: run those readings through the computer again to see if you can find anything new. Owen - keep examining the remains – watch for scorch marks, just in case there is another cell around. Gwen, the police said they were going to send the girl to the Cardiff Century Hotel, she’ll have a police guard – should make her easy to find. I want you to go and find out what she knows; spend the whole night there if you have to. Ianto, I want you to put your researching skills to good use. See if there have been any similar deaths. I’ll phone Detective Swanson and ask if they’ve found any more evidence.”

The team were already standing and almost out of the room when John interrupted them.

“What about me?” His voice was tense and he glanced angrily at Adam for a second. 

“Err...sorry, I forgot about you.” Jack shook his head, looking confused, and paused for a moment, clearly racking his brains for something John could do. “Go with Gwen,” he said after another moment, “In case whatever it is goes after the girl as well.”

* * * * *

 

Gwen was babbling some nonsense about them looking after her, while the girl, Jess, sat on the bed staring meekly in front of her, nodding occasionally – although, John noticed, obviously not in response to anything that Gwen was actually saying. 

He had to admit he was annoyed about being sent to babysit PC Cooper. He’d hoped that Jack would ask him to stay with him. Instead, he’d had to leave them all at the Hub with Adam – he didn’t trust him. He had already almost cocked everything up.

At least the girl seemed a little calmer now, tightly wound as a spring, her hand trembling as she brushed some hair out of her face, but able to talk at least. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right away,” Gwen was saying, “We’re just going to stay here with you to make sure you’re safe and whenever you’re ready to talk or if you remember anything just say. Maybe it would be a good idea if you got some sleep.” Jess jumped slightly, her eyes suddenly fixing on Gwen’s and her head shaking.

“No. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“That’s ok,” Gwen replied, “We can do whatever you want. It’s up to you.” John grunted in annoyance and stared back out of the window – it would be really easy to hate this city, particularly if he had to stay here much longer – but he just had to wait until he could tempt Jack away.

He had the sudden feeling that someone was watching him. He turned back to them and found Gwen staring at him, her head cocked to one side and an annoyed look on her face. He shrugged at her. 

“Tell you what,” Gwen said brightly, “Do you fancy a pizza? I’m starving. John, why don’t you go and get us some?”

“Your wish is my command.” He instilled the phrase with all the sarcasm he could muster. 

To be honest, it was a relief to get out of the hotel room, even if wasn’t for as long as he’d have liked. He’d lost all his patience for mending broken people long ago – when he hadn’t been able to mend Jack, he thought bitterly.

By the time he got back to the hotel room, Gwen had turned the television on – some Welsh soap, although she was keeping up a steady stream of conversation. Jess was sat in the window, her legs gathered to her chest and her eyes fixed on a point far away. She didn’t even touch the pizza and after a while even Gwen lapsed into silence. 

They must have sat like that for nearly two hours, the world outside of the room darkening. Gwen was seemingly enraptured by the television but noticeably twitchy and eager to be moving. John entertained himself by imagining elaborate ways he could punish Adam if he did anything stupid while he was stuck here, he’d just thought of something particularly inventive, a smile playing across his lips when he noticed that Jess was watching him, framed by the window, the lights of Cardiff an orange and purple glow behind her.

She was probably beautiful, although not stunning, when she wasn’t so pale and drawn. But what he noticed were her eyes, incredibly dark, they seemed to draw him in and he didn’t see grief in them – there was something, but it wasn’t grief. They burned. 

In the silence and the intimacy it was a sudden shock to hear Gwen’s phone ring.

“Shit,” she said fumbling for it and glancing at the screen, “It’s Rhys. I forgot we were supposed to go to the florist’s today. You’ll be all right for a second while I talk to him, won’t you?” she was addressing John and then, obviously realizing what she was doing, she glanced over at Jess with an apologetic grin. She snapped the phone open and headed out of the room, not waiting for a response. 

They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes and John heard Gwen giggle. An alien sound inside the room.

“Well she managed to keep the act up for all of five seconds,” Jess said, her voice croaky and bitter. 

“It’s not an act,” John’s statement was greeted with a disparaging look. “She’s a genuine bleeding heart. It’s sickening. She’s a bit distractible, but honestly she means every word.”

“Not you though.” 

“Actually, I nearly always mean what I say as well – I just don’t often say nice things.”

“I meant the bit about being a genuine bleeding heart,” Jess told him. There was definitely grief missing – she was shocked, scared even, but not upset. 

“Sorry – I’m not really interested in being your comfort blanket.” She looked back out the window.

“You don’t have to apologise, it doesn’t matter, I don’t need sympathy,” her voice was tight. 

“Maybe you don’t,” John agreed leaning back against the wall, after a moment she turned back to look at him again, her face impassive.

“What were you thinking about earlier?” She asked him, her voice back to normal, “When you smiled.” 

“Hurting someone,” he replied honestly. She blinked and for a second her lip trembled. She seemed on the edge of something. Possibly a cliff.

“I’m not sorry he’s dead, I wanted him to die, he never let me do anything.” Her voice broke, words tumbling out as if they were caught in an avalanche. “I think I did it. I dreamed that he was dead, that I was tearing him apart – hurting him. And when I woke up, it was real.”

 

* * * * *

 

Tosh smiled to herself. She could hear Owen swearing at Errol in the autopsy room. 

She set another test running on the computer, watching the results dancing across the screen in numbers and charts. She really wished she could have taken more readings, these were fascinating – it was certainly a form of energy, a bit like brain patterns but not quite and unless there was another attack, it looked like it would be impossible to say whether it was alien or not.

Tosh heard a grunt of annoyance across the room followed by a thump as Ianto slammed his palm against the computer desk. Surreptitiously she turned slightly to look at him. He was staring at the computer with a deep frown of annoyance on his face. He looked thoroughly miserable and she wondered for a moment whether something had happened outside of work. 

Deciding that the tests would be all right on their own for a few minutes, she headed to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee. It had become a running joke after everything that had happened with Lisa. Whenever one of them was having a bad day the other would turn up with coffee. If they noticed, of course. With this job it could be hard.

She was glad of the small ritual. Ianto was warm and friendly and caring, but when it came to himself he was usually so reserved and closed that it was hard to touch him. To reach out to him. It had been nice to find this one thing that could make him open up. 

“I thought it was about time I had some more practice,” Tosh said cheerfully as she set his mug down on the desk. He looked up at her with an expression of blank incomprehension. Then shaking his head slightly, smiled.

“Sorry, I was miles away, thanks.” 

“Anything up?” She asked leaning against the desk.

“I’m just having trouble getting into the police database,” he admitted. 

“Shift,” she told him firmly and slipped into the chair as he vacated it. His hand brushed her shoulder, as it settled on the back of the chair, and an involuntary shudder ran along her spine.

It took her a matter of seconds to get through the police security. There hadn’t been any changes in the system and for a moment she felt confused. Despite his slightly old-fashioned demeanour, Ianto was good with computers and he’d done this a thousand times. 

“Thanks, you’re my saviour. Really. Actually,” he sounded nervous and began to fumble in one of the cupboards, emerging with a bag which he handed her, “I got you a present.”

He handed it to her, an anxious look on his face and Tosh felt momentarily confused and a little embarrassed. They’d never given each other presents before, even on birthdays – just cards. She opened the bag to avoid having to respond. 

Inside was a dress, pretty and green and exactly her style. If she’d seen it in a shop, she would probably have bought it.

“Thanks,” was all she could think of to say. 

“I just saw it and, well, it reminded me of you,” he was babbling, “And I thought – anyway I was wondering if we could maybe go for a drink sometime, or for a meal or to the cinema…”

“Like a date?” She asked feeling vaguely horrified. This was Ianto. He was her friend. There had never been anything even slightly romantic between them. He knew how she felt about Owen and she’d thought he was still in love with Lisa. Before Ianto could reply, Jack strode into the room. 

“Gwen’s just got in touch, apparently the girl was responsible somehow, something about her dreaming it – so it was probably psychic energy of some sort.”

“That makes sense,” Tosh nodded, quickly getting up from the chair and heading back to her computer without looking at Ianto, thankful for the distraction. Owen stuck his head round the door. “I thought these readings looked a bit like brain waves.” 

“It’d explain why there are no pressure marks anywhere on the body as well,” Owen pointed out, rubbing his hands with a towel.

“Have there been any other attacks, Ianto?” Jack asked and Tosh glanced in Ianto’s direction again. He was stood there his mouth open, looking surprised. 

“I, umm… well I, I haven’t checked yet,” he admitted, “I was just about to.” Tosh saw Jack frown slightly as Ianto sank back into his chair and began to type furiously. After a few awkward minutes, he shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Right, then. It looks like it’s just an isolated incident – she probably had latent psychic powers and under extreme stress they emerged. Nasty way to die. Do we still have those necklaces from Torchwood 1 – the ones that suppressed psychic energy?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Tosh nodded.

“Good, I told Gwen and John to bring her in, once you two have run some tests we should be able to sort this out without much difficulty.” Owen began to grumble about staying late again as Jack turned to head back to his office, he was almost at the door when he turned back, “Ianto, you might as well go home, there’s nothing else for you to do here.” 

Ianto blinked at him for a second.

“But…” 

“Take a night off, get some rest,” Jack told him firmly. Tosh avoided meeting his eyes as he grabbed his coat and left.

* * * * *

Ianto tried to flex his arms again. They were in agony, but there was just no give. The electrical tape was still as firm and sticky as ever and since they’d padlocked it to the back of the chair he could barely move at all.

 Jack had taught him all sorts of clever ways to get out of ropes and handcuffs and wire, but not this. He had a fleeting memory of Jack, grinning as he’d handed him a pair of handcuffs. “_You’re getting too good at this – you’ll spoil all my fun_.” 

He squashed the memory down.

He had been trying not to think about Jack. Or the others. But in the silence and the pain and the waiting there was little else to do. This was his fault. 

He had the basics of a plan formed, they’d unstuck his legs as soon as they’d realized that they would have to carry him to the toilet, instead they were tied to the legs of the chair. It wasn’t much, but at least if he got free he could run. He just needed to get one of them on their own, preferably not John.

He tensed as soon as he heard the front door click open and shut again. Anxiously waiting to see who it was, squashing down the hope that it was Jack rescuing him. He knew the sound of Jack’s footsteps. 

Adam hesitated in the doorway for a moment, carrying a shopping bag. He looked tired and strained. Without speaking he pulled out a bottle of water and, crouching in front of Ianto, pushed it against his lips. It was an uncomfortably intimate situation, but Ianto drank thirstily, the water only able to take the edge off his dry, parched throat.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Adam said after a while pulling the bottle away, “Your job even makes aliens seem boring.” 

“I need the toilet,” Ianto replied, ignoring the comment.

They didn’t talk as Adam untied his feet and then moved behind him to remove the padlock. Picking the right moment was going to be hard and Ianto was just tensing for action when he heard the click of a gun being cocked behind him. Adam pressed it firmly against the back of his head. That complicated matters. 

“Get up.” Ianto’s muscles screamed at the unexpected movement, sore and cramped. He felt like a jittery old man.

He waited until they were almost at the door to the room and then moving sideways, quickly turned and headbutted Adam with all the strength he could muster. Adam reeled, clearly taken  by surprise, his gun hand dropping as his other hand reached up to touch his nose. 

Using the doorframe to balance him, Ianto kicked out as hard as he could manage. The kick hit Adam on the hip and although Ianto knew it had been too weak to do any real damage, it managed to push him into a twisting sprawl on the ground. Part of him already knew that it wasn’t going to be enough, but it was his only chance.

He ran from the room, turned the corner and then using all the strength he could muster ran at full tilt towards the front door. He stumbled just before he reached it, falling against it, grazing his shoulder and cheek painfully. The door shuddered beneath him but failed, agonizingly, to burst open. Leaving him, crouched against it, his face pressed into the wood. 

There was no time for another attempt. His whole body was shaking, it was running on nothing but adrenaline and that wasn’t enough. It was only a second before Adam, seizing him by the neck, pulled him painfully to his feet. He pushed him through a door on their left and threw him onto the bed.

 

* * * * *

John watched as Gwen carefully fastened the necklace around Jess’ neck as she sat beside her on one of the Hub’s sofas.

“You just have to wear this all the time. That will stop anything like this happening again. You can get on with the rest of your life, pretend it never happened,” she smiled at her and the girl nodded slightly. John smirked inwardly. 

She hadn’t been lying, she really wasn’t sorry. She may have fooled the others, made them feel sorry for her with stories of her controlling, stifling home, made them think she was an innocent victim, an unfortunate killer – but there was no regret, just lies and pretence. She was good. She met his gaze briefly, her eyes fierce. He saw echoes of himself in that expression. 

“I’ll just go and get my coat and then I can take you back to the hotel,” Gwen said, squeezing the girl’s hand before disappearing and leaving them alone. Jack had already vanished, John noticed with annoyance, his office dark and empty. Jess looked at John again.

“So is that what you think I should do? Pretend it didn’t happen. What would you do with my life?” She asked him aggressively. 

“I’d probably leave a trail of death and destruction behind me,” he told her. “Test myself, push my powers. If you really are a psychic, that is.” He still had his doubts. Owen’s tests had been inconclusive, but the others had decided that it had been extreme stress that had made her abilities emerge. She hesitated, glancing away and he guessed there were still hidden secrets there.

“You like to pretend that you’re bitter and angry and unforgiving,” she said suddenly. “Dangerous. But, no matter how much you complain, you like this. You want it. You want to be the big damn hero… save the world and win the girl… or should that be the boy? Why all the acting?”

Before he could respond, Gwen had reappeared and in another moment John was left alone in the Hub. 

It took almost an hour for him to track Jack down, even with his wrist strap. Jack was stood on the roof of a tall apartment building, staring across the bright city.

“I feel like I should be making a comment about tall buildings and overcompensation,” he said loudly and Jack turned quickly, surprised to see him there. 

“I can’t need to compensate that much, if you’re putting all this effort into stalking me,” Jack replied with a grin.

“Don’t flatter yourself – I was just bored. So, brooding on tall buildings? I could think of more enjoyable hobbies.” 

“I just like being able to see the whole city,” Jack responded.

“And of course it makes your coat swish dramatically in the wind,” John teased him. 

“That too.”

“I guess that comes from where you grew up – being able to see for miles.” There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. 

“I forgot you’d been to Boeshane,” Jack said, obviously trying to hide a slight tightness in his throat. When he spoke again his voice was unnaturally light and breezy. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not so long for me.” 

They had gone to the Peninsula together, just before they’d finally escaped the time loop – in one last attempt to find Grey. It had all but broken Jack. John wondered, just for a second whether he should tell him about Grey now, but he didn’t remember what John had said, he’d been careful to make sure that Adam rewrote the history of his first meeting with the team. Anyway Jack was already hurting enough.

“Did you notice anything weird with Ianto today?” Jack changed the subject, rather too obviously, John thought. He wasn’t the subtly brilliant Jack that John remembered. 

“Nope. Why?”

“I don’t know – there’s just something odd…I mean. Hmm…I don’t know how to explain this. When I say his name, when I think about him, I feel this – like my stomach twists a little…” John felt his own stomach twist; it was not a pleasant sensation. 

“I think that’s what we technically call nausea,” he tried to interrupt but Jack was still talking.

“… but when I look at him, there’s just nothing.” 

“Look do we have to talk about Ianto Jones and his horrible bloody coffee?” John asked and they both lapsed into silence again.

He was going to kill Adam, John mused. He was going to kill him in some way that involved splinters and paper cuts. It would be slow, painful and very inventive. 

“Why are you here, John?” Jack interrupted his train of thought.

“I told you – I was bored, there’s not exactly much to do in this city.” 

“That’s what I mean – why are you _here_,” Jack gestured at the city, “Why Cardiff? Why Torchwood? You could go anywhere in the universe, see anything you wanted – fall in love or lust or hate – and you’re here. I’ve been thinking about it all day. Why?”

John hesitated, searching for the snide response. Designed to amuse and maybe hurt, but he couldn’t find one. Jess had shaken him. 

“I missed you.”

Jack laughed, it was strangely humourless. 

“You’ve never missed anyone.”

“I needed you,” John could feel their history stretching out between them. 

He hadn’t even been a time agent when they’d met. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time – or the right place at the right time. He still wasn’t sure. And he’d got stuck. Just him and Jack stuck in that time loop, every two weeks finding themselves back where they’d started. Every two weeks choosing a new path – a new adventure.

They’d saved people and scammed people, explored and investigated and learnt – never going to the same place twice so they didn’t run into themselves. By the end there must have been over a hundred Johns and a hundred Jacks, exploring the universe and exploring each other. Falling into love and out of it and back in again. After a while he’d even forgotten they were stuck together, trapped, it had just been who they were. 

“You didn’t need me.”

“We were together for five years and then you just dumped me at the Time Agency and left.” Left him with a useless partner, while he’d gone gallivanting with someone new. “Like I didn’t mean anything.” 

“I’d hurt you enough.” Jack wouldn’t look at him. “And you were fine – I saw you, having adventures and making a name for yourself and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind…” They’d been legendary after the time loop – for everyone else it had just been two weeks and the two of them had done so much, changed so many people, for better or worse.

“Because that’s what you did, because that’s what you taught me to be. You broke me, Jack. I was so normal and then you broke me and you’re still the only person I’ve ever wanted,” his voice was bitter. 

Jack was silent and unreadable beside him and then without warning, almost without thinking, Jack pulled him into a kiss. Deep and passionate and tinged with loss and memories.

* * * * *

  
Adam looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. His lip had split and there was a thin trail of blood running from his nose. The injuries didn’t bother him; he’d be back to normal as soon as he was away from Ianto and closer to other people’s memories. But he was angry. 

“Do you know how easy it was for them to forget you?” He asked the boy. He could just see him in the mirror, laid uncomfortably on the bed, his chest raising and falling in ragged starts. “It was hardly even a challenge, but then they hardly ever noticed you anyway, did they?”

He turned back and climbed onto the bed, crouching over him, careful to pin the boy’s legs. 

“Even Jack. He doesn’t remember _you_ now. John had me take all those memories away – memories of watching you and kissing you, the way he felt when his hand rested against your neck,” his own hand touched the place, tasting Jack’s memories, trying them. “All that’s left of whatever you two had is in your brain and mine – and memories are such complicated, fragile things.

“Do they define who you are? I know I’m defined by them, but what about you? That’s the debate isn’t it? I think you are – I think I could make you into something better… or worse. I did before. 

“Because I know you better than anyone, better than your family or your team mates. Or Jack,” he felt Ianto shudder involuntarily, the memory of his mental intrusion clear in the boy’s mind. “I’ve seen all those hidden secrets and fears, the nooks and crannies of your personality – I know who you are, Ianto Jones. I know how fucked up you are. And I would have made it better.

“But then you did this,” he tenderly touched his painful lip. “Jack doesn’t remember your relationship – it happened, but was it real, would it be less real if you didn’t remember it either? What if only I remembered it, would it have even happened then? You could be a matching set. What should take away first? How about your goodbye? He kissed you – try to remember it – that’s a challenge.” 

“Please,”  Ianto’s voice was hoarse and scared. Adam ignored him, his other hand reached to cup the other side of the boy’s neck.

He began to work slowly, taking away memories, stripping them away. Every now and then feeding in something dark and painful. Revelling in the freedom and revenge. There wouldn’t be time to remove everything, he was too tired, but there was enough time to hurt and damage him. To breed despair. 

“I could have saved you, Ianto Jones – maybe I still am. He would only have hurt you in the end,” he murmured quietly.


	4. Only My Dreams

Ianto woke slowly and painfully. He rolled over and retched, his empty stomach contracting uselessly. The air ripping across his throat. 

It took him a few minutes to work out where he was and longer to remember what had happened. Adam had left him on the bed, his bound hands now firmly attached to the bedstead. 

His head was throbbing; short sharp bursts of pain, like the cracking of ice. His mind felt anchorless, it tossed and turned – tattered sails in the wind. He sought back through the last days, the bits he could remember, until at last he saw Adam as he had been the night before. Vivid in the darkness. Explaining what was about to happen.

He could see it then, the jagged emptiness where memories should have been. 

He tried to think of Jack and was overwhelmed by a flood of memories. Most of them unpleasant, betrayal and pain and blame, and the fleeting bright moments of joy. A kiss. A hand resting on his back. A softly murmured greeting. A smile exchanged for a cup of coffee.

Like pages torn from a book, almost meaningless because they didn’t make sense any more, but they tugged at a deeper part of him. Spoke to him.

* * * * *

   
Tosh checked the scanner again, but if there had been anything to read it was gone now. Whatever had happened here must have happened hours ago. She glanced down at Owen. He was rocking on his heels by the remains of the bed and the broken body, a look of consternation on his face.

“Any idea what killed him?” She asked.

“Well, it was definitely a fall. At least fifty feet by the look of it,” he sounded annoyed but then, except for Jack and John, everyone seemed irritable this morning. It was just one of those days.

Tosh glanced around the room. It was nice for a student place, complete with an en suite, but still if you’d jumped on the bed you’d probably hit your head on the ceiling – or at least you would have when the bed was still in one piece.

“Fell from where? The room’s not exactly built for bungee jumping,” she tried, hoping to make him laugh.

“Well that’s why _we’re_ here. Surely you’ve got something technical to do somewhere that would involve leaving me alone. Unless you have something actually useful to say,” he snapped at her.

She heard Jack laugh from the corridor, breaking through the uncomfortable silence.

“All right,” she said softly, trying not to feel hurt. She turned away and started to do another, entirely unnecessary scan of the room.

It was only when she looked up momentarily that she noticed that Ianto was leaning against the window, staring at her unblinkingly. Behind him she could just make out the trees of Cathay’s Park and the dome of the National Museum. She looked back down at the scanner, uncomfortable, she hadn’t talked to Ianto since their disastrous discussion yesterday.

“Everything alright, kids?” Jack asked cheerfully as he walked into the room.

“Absolutely splendid,” Owen replied, grimacing as he stood up. “I’m 110% certain that this guy died of an entirely impossible 50 foot fall.” Jack looked at the ceiling. 

“So we’re probably looking for something that can exert a huge amount of force, maybe an alien,” he guessed.

“I can’t see any pressure marks to suggest he was pushed, but it’s possible,” Owen agreed. 

“Or a type of force,” Tosh suggested, “Some sort of energy – although my scanners aren’t picking anything up.”

“It was a while before they found him,” Owen pointed out. 

“Right. You three go back and run whatever tests you can think of,” Jack decided. “Make sure you check that there haven’t been any similar attacks. If there are, start looking for a pattern. We’ll stay here and find out if any of the other students noticed anything.”

* * * * *

The drive back to the Hub was silent and tense and little changed once they’d arrived. An underlying vein of impatience and anger seemed to be infecting them all. Adam was tired and miserable. He shouldn’t have stayed so long with Ianto, he had done too much over the last few days. He felt exhausted. 

And so far, today hadn’t been any better than yesterday.

When he’d arrived at the Hub that morning, he’d found the bag with Tosh’s dress left forlorn and alone on his desk. Rejected. 

To make things worse, John had already been there. Alone. Tight hands had pressed against his throat as he was thrown against the wall.

“_I can distract Jack for a while, but he’s not stupid. If you don’t sort yourself out soon, Memory Boy, then you’ll find yourself leading a very lonely, empty existence. That’s a promise.” _

They must have worked in silence for nearly two hours. At least, Adam thought, he was getting better at the research. He’d spent some time last night picking through Ianto Jones’ techniques and skills. And things were turning up, hopefully he’d be able to impress Jack when he got back, even if the coffee was still terrible.

Every now and then, Adam couldn’t resist glancing at where Tosh was working. She seemed subdued and quiet and was clearly avoiding him. He was watching her when Owen appeared and quickly grabbed his coat. 

“I’m just going to pop out and get some…” he hesitated for a moment and then shrugged, “Coffee.” He didn’t bother to look apologetic. “Anyone else want anything?”

“No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind…” Tosh started with a tentative smile as Adam shook his head. 

“Don’t let that bloody dragon eat the body while I’m gone,” Owen said, ignoring her and he barely spared a backwards glance as he headed for the door. Tosh couldn’t hide her crestfallen look.

Adam sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling his heart shudder.

“I don’t understand why you want _him_ so much,” he blurted finally, his voice bitter. Tosh turned to him quickly, a look of unflattering horror on her face. 

“I really don’t think we should be talking about this.” Everything about her seemed uncomfortable as she looked back at her screen.

“You’ve been throwing yourself at him for years and he’s never even glanced at you,” as he talked, he stood but hesitated from crossing the distance between them. “One drunken kiss at Christmas and you’re pining after him. If he wanted you, Tosh, don’t you think he’d have done something by now – he’s slept with every other woman who’s walked through that door…” 

“You don’t understand,” she interrupted and it was clear she wasn’t upset, she was angry. He closed the space between them and she moved back from him slightly, another subtle rejection.

“Don’t I? I know more about him than you think. He doesn’t want you.” She tried to push past him, but he stopped her, grabbing her shoulders. “But I want you – I _love_ you.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I want you, Tosh, I need you… and you need me. I could do anything you wanted, be anything you wanted, you could be anything you wanted.” 

“We’re friends, Ianto, that’s all,” she tried to shake him off again, but he held tight.

“No. You have to _remember_.” 

Her eyes went blank for a second, confused, as he fed in the memories. Her lips parted slightly and he leant in, already tasting the memory of her kiss and then she shook her head and pushed him away firmly. He stumbled backwards, surprised.

“No. Look you’re just confused. You still love Lisa.” 

The sentence hung there between them for a second, he paused, that was one of the memories he’d been trying to suppress.

Adam felt panic for a moment. This had to work. He needed her. She needed him. He reached for her again, and she pulled her hand away. 

“This isn’t what you want and it certainly isn’t what I want,” Tosh’s voice was hard.

Something broke in him, before he even knew what he was doing he had seized her arms and pressed Tosh against the wall. She struggled beneath him, but he was stronger. 

“Ianto,” she gasped in pain.

“I wouldn’t have done this,” he told her, “But I need you.” She struggled harder, trying to kick him, pushing him away. But he had her pinned. He squeezed her wrists painfully, pulling her arms up higher. 

“Leave me alone. Please. Oh god.” The words escaped her in short, fearful bursts. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’d never hurt you,” he told her his voice soft. “I’m doing this for you.” 

Adam pushed himself into her mind, almost reverentially, carefully. He didn’t want to damage her, but these memories had to go. This was going to be permanent. She screamed once and then settled beneath him, her body becoming still and calm.

Adam felt shaken and ill; he rested his forehead slowly against hers, enjoying the comfort and the closeness. He was almost surprised as she sought his mouth for a kiss. 

They were both sat back at their workstations, by the time that Owen returned.

* * * * *

“Knocking on doors time,” Jack said as they watched the others leave. “Gwen, you go to the top floor, I’ll take the middle, John, you can take the bottom.” 

“That sounds… familiar.” John almost purred. Jack glanced at him quickly, a small smile playing across his lips. Gwen glanced between them, but obviously decided it was better not to say anything and headed for the stairs.

Jack watched him for a second longer and then reluctantly turned to leave, before John thought _screw it_ and, seizing him, threw him against the wall. He enjoyed the sound of half a breath escaping the other man’s lips in surprise.

Of course the element of surprise was all John had, if Jack wanted to escape, he had all the benefits of height and build. But John liked to make the most of whatever small advantages he could find. Before Jack could respond, he pressed into a kiss. 

“I think I need to remind you who the boss is around here,” Jack told him as they broke apart, but he was grinning.

“Is that a promise?” 

Jack spun them easily, not that John wanted to fight it, and firmly took control of the next kiss. For a moment they were absorbed in the closeness of their bodies, the heat, the fresh newness of old feelings. And then the sounds of two men arguing broke into their consciousness.

Jack pulled away sharply, glancing down the corridor. When he looked back John was ready. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, attempting his best impression of an interested investigator. 

“No rest for the wicked,” he said.

“Well, you would know,” Jack told him as he stepped backwards. 

The room was easy to locate, the voices inside tense and angry and somehow emphasised by the attempt to keep the argument quiet. Jack knocked firmly on the door and it was opened after a flurry of hissed conversation by a pale, geeky looking boy. He was wearing a tank top.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice nervous. 

“We were just wondering if you could answer a few questions for us,” Jack told him, his voice smooth and flattering.

“Umm… yes, alright.” He let them into the room. It was small and uninteresting, like most student holes – but, John noted with interest, rather more full of plants than he thought was traditional. 

The other boy was lazing on the bed, trying to look relaxed and aloof and failing miserably. He might have been cute, if he wasn’t wearing the determined swagger of an elitist intellectual. Instead he was just vaguely pathetic.

“We were wondering if you knew Damien Webb? He was found dead in his room this morning.” It was clear from their expressions that they’d already heard. 

John let Jack do the talking, as the boys explained that they’d been friends. The two of them had done plenty of interrogations in the past… future, whichever it was. He knew how this worked best. Jack would charm and flatter them, and he’d be silent in the corner, making them feel nervous and unsure. Waiting to see what he was there to do. All he had to do was smirk slightly – and he did that normally anyway.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Jack asked, perching on the boy’s desk suggestively, while John leaned against the door. 

“Two nights ago, we were at a party together,” the geeky boy explained. What had he said his name was? David? The other boy shot him an angry look. Was it Alan? That would do. Whatever his name was, David was avoiding looking at him.

“And how did he seem to you?” 

“All right… a bit distracted,” David replied nervously.

“Did he stay with you all night?” Jack asked and John couldn’t stop his lip quirking upwards. 

“No. He…”

“He got a call from his girlfriend,” Alan interrupted nonchalantly. “Said she was upset so he went to see her.” 

“Do you know who she is?” Alan shook his head, his eyes fixed on Jack. David kept glancing nervously at John.

“Some girl from Cardiff, they were keeping it all hush, hush. Something about her family not liking students or the English or something, you know what the Welsh are like.” 

“And, you didn’t see him after that?” The boy shook his head again.

“How has he seemed for the last couple of months? Different? Worried? Stressed? Paranoid?” Alan raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s a student… that’s what we’re always like.”

“What are you studying?” Jack asked. 

“I’m a political scientist, he’s a biology geek…”

“Biotechnology,” David corrected with a frown. 

He might have said more, but above them, distant and slightly undulating they heard a scream.

John and Jack didn’t wait, it couldn’t have taken much more than a minute for them to reach the second floor and no time to find the room, where Gwen was crouched, trying to comfort a girl who was sobbing hysterically. 

As she opened her mouth to scream again, John could see, with a feeling of nausea, that it was empty. Just red bleeding gums. On the bed around her small, white teeth were scattered.

* * * * *

Jack watched as Owen took another blood sample and passed it to Tosh. She disappeared quickly to analyse it.

They’d had to sedate the girl to get her to the Hub and it was probably best if they kept her that way. Waking up in an underground morgue, surrounded by people you didn’t knew, next to the dead and broken body of another student probably wouldn’t be the best thing for her sanity right now. 

“What the hell’s going on?” John murmured, as he pressed slightly into Jack’s side. Jack didn’t bother to respond. He wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to fall back into bed with John. Something wasn’t right.

The sex was good, they were clearly still attracted to each other, but… Jack wasn’t used to this uncertainty. He thought he’d loved John once, maybe. It was a long time ago and he’d been damaged back then, and nothing felt certain anymore. But surely he could love him away. 

But John was right, he’d hurt him and he was responsible for him now and if finding the Doctor and Martha had taught him anything, it was that you should care about the things you were responsible for. And that was what he was going to do – for better or worse.

“Anything?” He asked, wanting to distract himself from John’s comforting, unsettling presence and the thoughts twisting through his head. 

“Well, there’s no medical reason for them all to fall out in one go like that, no obvious tooth decay or gum disease. For a student she seems pretty healthy,” Owen shrugged before gently opening her mouth a little more.

“Nothing?” 

“There’s a bit of liver damage, but who doesn’t have that?”

“So we’ve got two suspicious unexplainable somethings, one fatal, on the same day in the same building… anyone else starting to think this isn’t a coincidence?” Jack sighed. He had been putting on a show of happiness all morning, trying to encourage the team and hide the fact that he was feeling tired and confused. 

“It isn’t,” Tosh said firmly as she headed back into the room and she grinned, suddenly, inexplicably.  At least she seemed happier than earlier.

“I’ve just checked her blood sample, and compared it to the one we took earlier from Damien Webb and they both have an alien compound in their blood, it seems to be biologically based, although it’s difficult to tell. There’s not much of it and it seems to be dissolving fast – if I hadn’t had the second sample available for comparison I might not have noticed it at all.” 

“Any ideas how it could have got there?”

“It could have been injected, or ingested – a bite, spit, in the air. Lots of ways, sadly. There’s not much we can rule out.” 

“Well, we can rule out the biting, as that’s one of the few marks neither of these two have on them.” Owen still sounded irritable and annoyed.

“Not necessarily,” Tosh pointed out, “We don’t know what this substance does. It could heal the wound or disguise it…” 

Owen looked ready to start an argument and Jack decided it would be a good time to interrupt.

“Have you found anything, Ianto?” He might as well ask, even after yesterday’s failure. 

“Not much,” Ianto replied confidently. “But there was another instance of teeth falling out reported at the Dental Surgery on Clare Road yesterday morning, not a student this time. Although there was a police report about an increase of students streaking in the last two days – all of the students arrested claimed they didn’t have any idea how it happened.”

“You know…” Gwen started and then paused with a thoughtful expression. 

“What?” Jack pressed her.

“Well – falling, losing your teeth, being naked in public places… they’re all really common anxiety dreams.” 

“Speak for yourself,” John said with a grin, “I’m perfectly comfortable being naked in public places.” Gwen laughed.

“Dreams. That makes sense, so what are we looking at?” Jack asked, ignoring him. 

“Well,” Tosh suggested, “We could be looking at an alien compound that recreates the effect of your dreams on your body or makes you re-enact them in some way. Maybe pulling out your own teeth or going to a public place and undressing, if the compound strengthened the effect, made it superhuman that might explain Damien as well…”

Jack felt John still beside him, suddenly tense. 

“What if you dreamed you were ripping someone you were angry with apart,” he said slowly.

For a fleeting second Jack saw a room filled with body parts and a terrified girl sat on the stairs. 

“We need to talk to Jess again.”

* * * * *

  
“My boyfriend gave it to me,” Jess admitted after about twenty minutes back in the Hub. “I was upset about Dad and he said it would help to take my mind away from all that.” 

“Do you know where he got it from?”

“No idea… look, I know I should have told you about this before, after what happened with Dad, but I didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble.” 

“What was your boyfriend’s name, Jess?” Gwen asked gently, already dreading the answer.

“Damien, Damien Webb. Dad didn’t want me seeing anyone, but Damien was persistent.” 

Gwen met Jack’s eye for a short, desperate second and then Jack looked back at Jess.

“Damien died last night.” He said it without any emotion, simple and straightforward. Painfully honest. 

Jess didn’t react, or Gwen thought, didn’t react as she was expected to. Instead she became strangely motionless, her face blank and indrawn with nothing to reveal what she was thinking. 

“How?” She asked after a while.

“We think whatever you took killed him. We need to know what it was, Jess,” Jack told her. 

“It was just like a pill, sort of spiky, a new drug. He said it was called Dreamscape. It was just supposed to make you dream.”

“And where did he get it?” 

“I don’t know, honestly, I don’t know. He used to take all sorts, he probably got it from a dealer.”

It didn’t take long to realise that there was really nothing else for Jess to say. Jack beckoned Gwen to follow him out of the interrogation room. She was reluctant to leave Jess alone, but the girl seemed distant and unreachable. The others were waiting for them. 

“She says it’s a new type of drug called Dreamscape – but that’s all she knows.” Jack told them without preamble. “I know it’s late, but I want everyone to find out what they can – Tosh, I want you to talk to Jess, see if she can give you a description of the drug and see if you can find out more from the blood test; Gwen, get in touch with the police, see if they’ve heard anything about it,” Gwen nodded, mentally running through the best person to talk to on the drug squad. Peterson would probably know and wasn’t curious enough to ask many questions.

“Ianto, back to the research I’m afraid; Owen, can you go out and see if you can find out who’s dealing this stuff…” 

“Are you suggesting that I’m familiar with the underworld of Cardiff, Harkness?” Owen interrupted with a smirk.

“Are you suggesting you’re not?” Jack countered. 

“Charming.”

“I could help him,” Ianto suggested unexpectedly. Jack looked at him with barely concealed surprise. 

“No, I think it’s best if you stay in the Hub. We can compare notes in the morning.”

As Jack turned, he met Gwen’s eyes, grimaced slightly and rolled his eyes. She had difficulty suppressing a quick smile. He turned to where John was leaning against the wall. John grinned. There was definitely something going on between them. 

“Me and you better take Sleeping Beauty back to the hospital.”

* * * * *

Ianto was still on the bed, asleep or unconscious, Adam wasn’t sure. Whichever it was, he hadn’t heard him arrive.

Adam had managed to escape the Hub before Jack and John returned. He was frustrated enough without having to talk to John again. He had thought he was making progress, he had Tosh and he’d thought he was getting respect and then he’d seen the way Jack had looked at Gwen. It was then that he’d decided to do something drastic. 

It hadn’t taken him long to find the druggies and the dealers. He’d just gone to the prostitutes and followed the trail. It was easy to get people to tell him what he wanted and it wasn’t like he had to worry about getting caught or hurt.

Eventually he’d found someone who had some Dreamscape and had been willing, after a little persuasion, to give it to him. He’d only planned to take one, but pausing, he’d stolen a second. 

It was more curiosity than anything; he’d seen in the guy’s head what Dreamscape could do, but he wanted to experience it. Dreams were something he didn’t quite understand. He never dreamed and they were too distant and buried for him to read them well in others. This could change that, he wanted to try it for himself. At least vicariously.

He removed the padlock before he seized Ianto by the back of the neck and pulled him onto his knees as the boy gasped into painful, confused wakefulness. 

“I’ve found a new game for us to play,” he leaned in closer to whisper it in Ianto’s ear and then pulled away sharply with a grimace of disgust. “You stink. Get up.”

Adam kept his distance, gun pointed at Ianto’s head as he climbed shakily to his feet, eyes searching the room for a chance of escape. But there was nothing. 

Adam didn’t even have to worry as he guided Ianto to the bathroom and forced him into the shower cubicle. Gun pressed against his forehead, he reached past him to turn the water on and then stepped backwards. The water pounded down, hot, steam rising around them.

Carefully he pulled one of the Dreamscape out of his pocket. It didn’t look like a pill, instead it was small and delicate, something like a tiny dragon fruit. It trembled slightly in his hand. Ianto’s eyes glanced at it. 

“Eat it,” Adam ordered him holding it close to Ianto’s mouth. Feeling the water hot against his arm.

“What is it?” Ianto asked, his voice hoarse. 

“Eat it or I shoot,” he pressed the gun back against the boys head.

“You wouldn’t do that, John wouldn’t let you…” 

“John’s got what he wanted, he’s happily shagging Jack,” He enjoyed the momentary flinch at the name, proud of his own work. “He doesn’t give a shit what I do to you any more, he’s not even come back to check on you. Has he?”

He used the gun to tip Ianto’s head back, and then forced the Dreamscape between his lips. It happened almost instantly, Ianto’s eyes slackened, unfocused, he blinked a couple of times in quick succession and then sank slowly to the floor of the shower.

Adam took his hand, ignoring the heat of the water, and laced their fingers together. He eased himself carefully into Ianto’s mind and waited. It took a while. At first there was nothing to see, then quick flashes of colour and barely glimpsed images appeared, too fast for him to recognise.

Under his closed eyelids, Adam could see Ianto’s eyes flickering, a subtle, desperate movement and then, without warning, he was plunged into the dream. 

It left him breathless for a second. He couldn’t just see the dream, he could hear it and smell it and feel it. It was like the first time he had opened his eyes in this world, before it had taken on the visage of normalcy. He’d forgotten what it had been like. What he’d lost.

It was like drowning in sensations. 

They were stood in a dark alleyway, rain falling steadily around them, the shower come to glorious life. Their hand twitched and then settled into a fist, and Adam felt Ianto’s rising sense of anticipation.

They knew the woman was near before they saw her, they could almost smell her. The perfume of fear. The attack was sudden and quick – full of violence and lust and desperate pleading. Every feeling heightened by the Dreamscape. 

Adam revelled in it. This had been his lost masterpiece. He’d thought Jack had destroyed the memory, but it had still been there, lurking in the dark shadows. A silent killer.

He could feel Ianto’s hand, wet and slippery, beneath his, jerking frantically, looking for a desperate escape as in the dream they stood, turning from the body to look for another victim. 

Adam’s phone rang. Breaking into the darkness of the dream world and reluctantly Adam let go of the hand and pulled himself free of the frantic, fantastic visions.

He flicked it open and smiled as he heard Tosh’s sweet, longing voice at the other end.

“I’ll be right over,” he reassured her. 

He looked one last time at Ianto, shuddering in the shower and then left, locking the bathroom door behind him.

* * * * *

In an empty alleyway the night suddenly became a shade darker. Rain began to fall, heavy and steady and out of place and a man stepped out of the shadows, flexing his hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Im currently emersed in China Mieville's Perdido Street Station and have to admit that Dreamscape owes a lot of its inspiration to his Dreamshit - all the particulars, however, have changed.


	5. Under Your Feet

Tosh loved waking up warm and rested. She could feel Ianto’s breath soft against her neck. She sighed. A deep, satisfied sigh.

“You awake?” Ianto murmured behind her, tickling her neck. 

“Hmmm…”

“We’re going to be late for work,” he told her. 

It was a few more minutes before they got out of bed and then there was a messy flurry of dressing and eating breakfast and searching for keys and quickly stolen kisses, before they finally clambered into her car.

They drove in comfortable silence, not needing to talk. After a few minutes Ianto switched on the radio. It was a news report.

“… Police have revealed that the body of a young woman was found this morning in Cardiff city centre. The death is being treated as suspicious and investigations are ongoing…” Out of the corner of her eye, Tosh saw Ianto frown at the radio, then he looked up and smiled at her. 

“The police have asked us to reassure people that there’s no reason to panic but have encouraged women not to go out at night and alone and to take every precaution,” the newsreader finished as she pulled into the car park.

“Ready for another boring day at the office?” Ianto asked her as she finished parking the car. 

“Depends. Are there going to be any perks?” She asked and he leaned in and kissed her.

“Mmmm,” she sighed as they pulled away, “I wish we didn’t have to keep this a secret.” 

“You know what they’d say,” he told her. “Come on, no use putting off the inevitable.”

“Finally,” the newsreader was saying as Tosh gathered her things together, “a Cardiff man was surprised to wake up this morning with a perfect pair of breasts. A staff member at Cardiff General told us exclusively that they were baffled by the…” 

She turned off the ignition.

* * * * *

John couldn’t help a sense of smug satisfaction as Jack brushed his hand against the small of his back, relaxed and comfortable. They were waiting in the board room for the others to arrive, checking through Adam’s feeble report. The sounds of the early morning madness of the Hub drifting in, quietly muffled. It felt like it was just the two of them.

He’d spent the night at the Hub again. It was all too easy to find excuses not to check on Ianto, to leave Adam to take care of him and it was so much easier to imagine this was how life had always been without Ianto to remind him otherwise. 

Jack straightened and removed his hand as the others began to drift into the room and settle into their seats. Adam was last, carrying a tray of coffee. He looked worryingly happy. John shot him a pointed look as he handed him a coffee mug but received only a bland smile in response.

“Owen, what have you got?” Jack asked as Adam settled into his seat a moment later. 

“Nothing, it was a complete waste of time, no one knew anything. Whatever this stuff is, it’s obviously new.”

  

  1. “The police said mostly the same,” Gwen added, “They’ve heard vague rumours that there’s something new on the market but they don’t know anything about it. They hadn’t even heard the name Dreamscape.”                                           
  



“Right,” Jack sounded annoyed, “So we have no leads and no idea what we’re dealing with.” 

“Actually,” Adam interrupted smoothly not looking at John, “I managed to get this.”  He set a small object on the table – shaped like a fir cone, but vividly coloured with pinks and blues and some purple. “It’s Dreamscape,” he added unnecessarily.

Tosh’s face lit up with a beautiful smile, her eyes fixed on Ianto. For a moment John felt a flutter of concern but was distracted as Jack tensed beside him. 

“I told you not to go looking for this,” He said, his voice carefully even.

“I had a hunch and used my initiative. I thought you would be pleased, Sir.” The atmosphere in the room was uncertain and uncomfortable. Tosh reached into the bag beside her and pulled out her scanner. 

“Definitely alien,” she said happily moments later, “Plant based I think.”

“Did the person you got this from know where it came from?” Jack asked him. 

“He had no idea, I checked.” Adam’s voice was smug.

John glanced around at them all. Tosh was enthralled with what she was doing, Gwen looked confused, her eyes focused on Jack, and Owen looked annoyed. Whatever Jack was thinking, he was now hiding it. 

“So we’re no closer to finding out where this bloody stuff actually came from,” Owen moaned.

“Well we’ll just have to do some old fashioned police deducing,” Gwen suggested with a smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “What do we know about the victims?” 

“They were all drug addled idiots who would eat weird alien plant substances without knowing what they’d do and we’re probably better off without them,” Owen matched Gwen’s smile perfectly.

“If you’re not going…” Gwen started to reply and John decided it would be a good time to interrupt her. 

“Or, in other words, they’re mostly students… Or they have connections to students,” he amended. “They probably got the drugs at a party, so that probably means it was another student supplying them.” 

John hesitated for a moment, ignoring the others as they began to discuss the possibilities. His mind was clutching at something. Then he remembered, there had been a party, one of those boys had said they’d gone to one with Jess’ boyfriend just before he’d given her the Dreamscape. Those boys…

He remembered them. Arguing and tense and in a room filled with plants. 

“Did you say it was plant based?” He asked Tosh, cutting across the others conversation. She looked up at him, her face radiant.

“Definitely.” 

“I know who gave Damien the Dreamscape.” He told them firmly.

* * * * *

David looked scared and miserable, while Alan was silent and surly and avoiding looking at Jack. 

“I found the berries about a month ago, while I was doing some cataloguing for the university,” David told them. “There were six of them, no notes with them or anything. God knows how long they had been there, but they were still fresh. Nobody knew what they were and nobody seemed to care very much so I thought I’d make them into a private project.”

“What did you do with them?” Jack asked. 

“Well from their makeup they looked like they were edible so I gave one to a rat. I borrowed him from the university as well. It just put him to sleep – a really deep sleep – he woke up the next morning, fine – happier – as far as you can tell with rats.”

“And the others?” 

“I’d been having trouble sleeping, stress and… I know it was stupid but…”

“You took one,” John filled in for him. He was leaning against the door, so silent that Jack had almost forgotten he was there. David nodded, his eyes not leaving the floor. 

“What happened?” Jack asked him.

“I must have gone to sleep straight away, I woke up… I don’t know, fifteen hours later. Missed most of my lectures. All I could remember was that I’d had these incredible dreams. You know, really vivid, but I couldn’t remember them properly.” 

“And there weren’t any side effects?” Jack pressed him; David met Alan’s eyes for a second and then shook his head. “OK, that’s two of them, what about the other four?”

“I tried one of the others,” Alan told him, taking over. “Same as David, good dreams, feeling of euphoria in the morning, no side effects.” 

Possibly only bad things happened when people had nightmares, Jack thought.

“I planted the last three,” David continued, “tried different things – putting them in the dark, under lamps, different plant food. Only that one survived,” he gestured to a lush green plant stood on his desk. Through each leaf, its skeleton could be clearly seen – a delicate, vivid pink structure. Jack could see tiny purple buds beginning to grow. 

“And you gave them to your friends? Even though you didn’t know what they were,” Jack asked him.

“We didn’t know they would do any damage,” Alan replied defensively. “They were natural; we thought they’d be alright.” 

“Cannabis is natural – that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have any bad side affects.” Alan snorted derisively.

“We didn’t mean any harm,” David told him, his voice was shaking. “As soon as we heard what had happened to Damien, we called everyone we had given it to, told them to destroy them. Didn’t we?” He looked at Alan desperately for confirmation, at first the other boy wouldn’t meet his gaze, then he nodded, slightly too quickly. 

Jack was about to question him further when Gwen suddenly spoke in his ear, she sounded worried.

“Jack?” Turning away from the boys, he pressed his comm. 

“Yep.”

“Detective Swanson just called us – she wants us to meet her in at Queen’s Arcade as soon as possible. She sounds desperate, Jack.” 

“Right, I’ll come right away. Meet me there.”

“What about the others?” 

“They can stay at the Hub for now. I’ll send John back with what we’ve found here – we’ll need it analysed. If we need them we can call them.”

Jack turned back to the boys. 

“This is your lucky day. We have something else to deal with, but don’t try disappearing, because I will track you down and you don’t want to make me angry.”

* * * * *

Gwen headed out and without much else to do Owen headed to the greenhouse. He liked the plants. None of them were normal for a start, they were all of alien origin and they allowed him to dabble in research in his spare minutes. It was like returning to the beginnings of medicine.

He worked through the plants, making sure they were still all right, watering those that needed it. Picking off dead leaves and storing them in bags, he could look at them next time they had a quiet week. 

As he pushed some branches aside to reach one of the smaller plants at the back, he spotted Tosh and Ianto below. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought they were flirting. He felt a twinge of guilt, he’d been horrible to Tosh in the last couple of days, everything had just seemed out of sorts.

Owen was about to get on with the plants, when Tosh suddenly, unexpectedly, pulled Ianto into a kiss. A passionate kiss. A familiar bloody kiss. What the hell was going on? 

He waited until Ianto had headed back to the tourist information office and then went to find her.

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded. 

“With what?” She replied distractedly, absorbed in something on her computer.

“With Ianto.” She flushed quickly and turned to look at him, biting her lip nervously. 

“You saw us?”

“Yes, I bloody saw you,” he snapped, “You were kissing him!” Tosh sighed. 

“Well, I might as well tell you. We’re dating, we have been for months.”

“What?” This conversation was completely insane. Tosh just shrugged at him and turned back to the computer, obviously not feeling the need to explain herself. Owen forced himself to take a few deep breaths, well just two, to calm himself down and tried again. It was clearly his responsibility to talk some sense into her. “Look Tosh, do you really think dating Ianto is a good idea?” 

“I don’t see why we should be talking about this,” she told him firmly.

“Because I’m worried about you.” 

“Look, it’s none of your business.”

“But… Ianto?” He couldn’t keep the exasperation from seeping into his voice but Tosh just ignored him, her lips were very thin. “I mean he’s so… so…. And him and Jack,” Owen hesitated. He had definitely been going to say something about Ianto and Jack but he had no idea what it was going to be. He rallied. “After what happened to Lisa do you really think he’s the sort of man you should be getting into a relationship with?” 

It was a moment before she turned to look at him, her expression confused.

“Lisa?"

“Yeah, Lisa,” her face remained blank. “You know, his cyber-girlfriend, that he hid in the basement for months and lied about. The one who nearly killed us…”

“What are you talking about?” They stood in silence for a second, staring at each other. The dawning realisation that something was wrong clear on both their faces. 

“You’re really going to wish you hadn’t said that,” Adam was leaning in the doorway, his expression dangerous.

* * * * *

“Follow me,” Detective Swanson told them cryptically once Jack arrived. She’d been tight lipped with Gwen while they were waiting, refusing to say anything where they might be overheard.

She led them into one of the back alleys opposite the shopping arcade – a well known shortcut to a local car park. It had been roped off by the police. 

Half way down the alley, forensics were examining the body of a girl.

“She was strangled,” Swanson told them. 

“Do you think it’s the same person who killed the woman you found this morning?” Gwen asked her.

“That’s what the evidence is suggesting.” 

“A second murder within a day,” Jack sounded tired. Detective Swanson was silent for a moment and then took a deep breath.

“Fourth. We haven’t told the press yet and according to the times of death they’re all within ten hours of each other, roughly. No evidence, no witnesses…” Swanson waved one of her hands slightly, a small gesture which somehow clearly showed how powerless she was feeling. 

“Fuck,” Gwen breathed.

“All right, well we’ll do what we can to help, but I don’t see what this has to do with us,” Jack told her, “I don’t see Torchwood scrawled on any of these walls.” It was almost flirting, but oddly lacklustre, there was definitely something wrong and Gwen decided that as soon as this was sorted out she was going to make Jack talk to her. 

“We haven’t got any witnesses, but both ends of this alley are visible on CCTV footage.” Gwen glanced along the alley, the buildings on either side were tall, with no windows or doors or openings. “No one can get in or out of this alley without us knowing.”

“I’ve had my team going through the footage, they’ve already gone through the last 48 hours. Until the victim goes in, no one enters this alleyway who doesn’t leave it. There was no one down here when the girl was attacked.” 

The unspoken questions hung in the air for a second. Only broken as Tosh’s voice suddenly appeared in their ear pieces. Jack turned away from them both.

“Jack? Gwen?” 

“We’re here,” Jack’s voice echoed strangely, repeated through the comm. system.

“We’re all at Cathays Park… it’s… look you really have to get here. Meet us at the back of the Town Hall, all right.” 

“Right.”

He turned back to Swanson. 

“Something’s happened – we’ve got to go. But we’ll catch whoever did this,” Jack told her, his frustration and anger clear in his voice.

* * * * *

Ianto shuddered awake, cramped and uncomfortable. The water pounding down on him was ice cold, his clothes were soaked, sticking to his skin and he couldn’t stop his body from shivering violently. 

After a few seconds he carefully tilted his head back, letting the water seep into his throat. It was too cold and his stomach was too empty, it made him feel sick, but it had been so long since he’d had enough to drink.

He couldn’t remember what had happened the night before or why he was in the bathroom but it was with rising excitement that he realised that for the first time since he had been brought here he wasn’t tied to anything. 

It was difficult to get to his feet, the floor was slippy, his body weak and uncooperative and without his hands there was no way to balance himself but he managed it.

It took less time to take in the bathroom. Just a shower and a sink and a toilet. He tried the door as best he could with his bound hands but it was locked and too solid for him to break. 

There was a small window above the toilet, wonderful Welsh architects had struck again making life easier for perverts. One glance out of it told him that he was too far up to risk escaping that way with his hands still bound.

As he looked around the room he caught sight of himself in the mirror for a moment. Pale and bruised, devoid of warmth. His shirt was torn and filthy. He turned from the mirror quickly and checked the rest of the room. 

There wasn’t much that could help him, but the shower cubicle’s door was made of glass. It stood open, resting against the wall. He looked at it for a while, it was his only hope. If he could break it…

He tried kicking it, but there was nothing to balance against and he couldn’t muster the strength. It just banged harmlessly against the wall. 

Finally, hopelessly, he threw his whole body against the door. He felt it hit the wall behind him, flex slightly, and then resettle back into shape. He tried again. For a second he thought it had worked, but then there was nothing.

Again and again he threw himself against the door, the last of his energy ebbing away. Until suddenly, unexpectedly, the glass broke beneath his weight. He sunk to his knees as it gave way, feeling the broken shards digging into his back and legs, one piece piercing his arm deeply. 

He sucked in a breath and then bit down on his tongue to stem the pain. He had to sit for what felt like an age, recovering.

Finally he looked to his side where the metal hinge of the door still stood, clinging onto a jagged broken edge of glass. It would be enough. 

It was a struggle to get back to his feet and difficult to saw through the soaking electrical tape. More than once he slipped, cutting his hands and wrists. He had no sense of time anymore, but it must have taken at least half an hour; it felt like days. At last the tape gave way, his muscles screaming at the sudden freedom.

He sank onto the toilet seat, grateful for the rest and surveyed the damage. He was starving and soaking and covered in blood. The piece of glass that had cut his arm was still stuck in it, but he couldn’t risk pulling it out. Instead, finding a towel, he ripped strips of bandages and did what he could. 

When he was finished, Ianto stood with a steadiness of purpose that his body couldn’t hope to match and surveyed the window. Only the top part opened, it would be a tight squeeze and he’d have to drop at least a storey and then he had no idea where he was. But he had to get back to the team.

* * * * *

Cathays Park was usually immaculate – beautifully designed and sculpted – but that had all disappeared. Instead it looked like a scene from World War II, almost exactly like a scene from World War II, Jack noted wryly.

There were trenches and wire and guns, the remains of bodies and even in the distance the shattered wreck of a plane. A Spitfire by the look of it. 

He looked across at John, who shrugged.

“I have absolutely no idea.” 

“And it wasn’t like this last night?”

“It wasn’t like this an hour ago. There’s CCTV footage,” Tosh explained, “it goes blurry for a second and this sort of pops into existence.” 

“Maybe a piece of World War II got caught in the Rift and popped out here,” Gwen suggested.

“It’s possible but I haven’t picked anything up on the Rift monitor.” 

Jack left them discussing it and made his way through the desolated Park to where the plane had crashed. He was careful not to look too closely at the things around him; it was hard to ignore the memories crowding around him as it was.

They already had too much to deal with and this was just another thing that he didn’t understand and had no idea how to solve. He hated days like this. He pushed aside the feeling that his bad mood was more about John than anything else. He didn’t want to think about that either. 

It was only when Jack was close to the spitfire that he noticed something was wrong. The shape was off and, yes, it was far too big. He reached out to touch the cold metal. It was real, but even that didn’t feel right.

He turned quickly, surveying the scene, and other mistakes jumped out at him. He couldn’t believe he had missed them before. 

Jack quickly returned to where the others were arguing about what course of action Torchwood Guidelines would suggest when a historical battlefield manifested itself in your city.

“It’s not real,” he told them firmly, they looked at him blankly. “Well it is real, it’s here, but it’s not right – it’s more like a film set than a battlefield.” 

“I was beginning to get that impression as well,” Owen added. He was crouched a little way away next to one of the bodies. “We’ve got a lot of blood and guts here, but half the vital organs are missing – not blown out of your body missing either – there isn’t even any space left where you could have fitted them.”

“So we’ve got a made up battlefield instead of a real one,” John tried to interrupt, “I’m not really sure how that makes the problem any easier.” 

“It’s like someone just put in what they expected to find in a body,” Owen continued, the words stirred a memory.

“What was it you said about Errol when we first found him?” Jack asked. “That he was like a…” 

“Child’s drawing,” Owen finished. They looked at each other, ignoring the others, putting the pieces together. Then Jack nodded at him.

“Right, there’s nothing we can do here for now. Gwen – call the police, get them to seal off the area and start the clean up operation. Then, you and John go to the University residences,” he looked over at John. “I need you to bring those students we were talking to earlier to the Hub. There’s something they’re not telling us.” 

“The rest of us will go straight there. We have a murderer to catch.”

* * * * *

Owen rubbed the rough skin underneath Errol’s chin. From somewhere Jack had found a dog leash which just about fit him and now he was firmly tied to the banister. They didn’t have to wait long. 

As soon as John and Gwen led the students through the Hub door, the pair shrank back, their eyes fixed on Errol, fear on their faces. Beside him, Errol’s back arched and his wings spread open trying to make himself look bigger. He roared silently at them, clearly trying to flame but unable. Owen had never seen Errol react like this to anyone before.

“Shit,” one of them breathed.

“So I’m getting the impression that this isn’t the first time you’ve met our friend,” Jack said from above them on the gangway, his voice devoid of humour. They were too scared for a moment to respond.

“Why isn’t he… why isn’t there any fire?” One of the boys asked. 

“We’ve stopped him,” Owen told them.

“So what else didn’t you tell us, David?” Jack asked. 

“Look, we would have told you, told someone – but who would have believed us?”

“So you tried to kill him?” Owen spat at them. 

“We didn’t have a choice – he nearly burnt the halls down and it wasn’t like there was anywhere we could take him,” the boy sounded genuinely sorry.

“What happened David?” Jack asked, continuing to ignore the other boy. 

“It was like I said but… well, when I woke up the rat’s cage had turned into a massive maze. He was happy, though, he’d got to the centre and it was crammed with food – everything you could imagine. And that seemed like a good idea, I mean waking up with all the stuff you could want, so we both tried it. The dream was horrible and when I woke up he was there…”

“Nothing happened to me when I took it,” the other boy interrupted, “And my dreams were fine.” 

“I’ll get to you later,” Jack snapped at him and turned back to David.

“What else?” 

“I tried to look after him, but he kept getting bigger and in the end it was the only thing we could think of,” David’s voice was small. “But I promise you that there we told you everything else and we did make sure that all the remaining Dreamscape was destroyed.”

“Well, we have evidence that it wasn’t. I have a feeling you can tell me about that, Alan.” Jack turned at last to the other boy. 

“We’ve told you everything we know,” Alan replied, David nodding desperately at his side, stopping in shock as Jack held up the Dreamscape that Ianto had found.

“We think this was bought from a drug dealer in town, we know you’re the only people who could have provided it, and we just need to know…” 

As Jack had been talking, David had turned to stare in anger at Alan. Without warning he shoved him hard. Errol keened beside Owen.

“You gave them to him? I told you…” 

“I didn’t have any other way to pay him,” Alan spat back at him. “He was threatening me...”

“We don’t have time for this, I don’t care why you did it,” Jack told them angrily, “All we want to know is who you gave it to.” Alan closed his mouth firmly, but David turned back to Jack, his expression still angry. 

“He’s called Pete, I don’t know his last name, but you can usually find him at the Augustus John pub.”

“Fine, you two wait here, everyone else to the board room.” 

Owen stroked Errol one last time and then followed the others. Jack was clearly tense and angry. It had been a long time since Owen had seen him this on edge. Once they were all in the room, he slammed the door shut behind them.

“So what do we know? Impress me, people.” 

“Well, we know that the Dreamscape doesn’t just affect the people who have it in their system,” Tosh said, “It can create things as well.”

“And we know that there’s probably more out there,” Gwen added.

“Plus we have no idea how to get rid of the bloody stuff it creates,” John pointed out. Everyone was silent for a moment. 

“Well,” Jack said, “Right now we haven’t got time to worry about that, our priority has to be to get the rest of the Dreamscape off the street and to find this murderer.”

“God knows how,” Gwen said. They’d explained what Detective Swanson had told them when they’d first arrived at the Town Hall, before they’d seen what had happened to the park. 

“What if…” Ianto began at the same time and then stopped again; he had been oddly quiet all afternoon.

“What?” John snapped quickly at him, his voice threatening. 

“What if someone took the drug and dreamt that they… dreamt about a murderer?” His voice was low, laced with horror.

“Shit,” Owen said. 

“Right,” Jack said firmly. “Gwen, John – I need you to come with me, I have an idea. You three, I want you to retcon those two and take them back to their Halls. I don’t want them remembering any of this. Then find this Pete, find out how much Dreamscape he had and who he sold it to. I don’t want any left out there.”

* * * * *

There was no time, Jack and Gwen were waiting, but John had to talk to Adam. He managed to catch him alone as the others left the board room, too aware that he only had seconds to spare. 

He seized his shoulders and threw him face first against the wall. Pinning him there.

“What have you done?” John growled. Adam pushed backwards, knocking John off balance, for once surprising him. 

They struggled, and for an irrational moment, John thought Adam was taller than before. Eventually they separated - facing each other as they breathed heavily. They both kept their distance, although neither seemed willing to back down.

“Tell me what you’ve done,” John ordered him.

“I haven’t done anything,” Adam spat and then without another word stormed from the room. 

John couldn’t fight the sensation that everything was spiralling out of control.

* * * * *

Adam escaped from John, his heart pounding. He had to get back to Ianto. That drug had done something… If it had helped him escape. Had turned him into a killer. He needed to find out. 

He had to get back to Ianto. But first there was a job he had to do.

Adam cursed and then raced to find the others.

* * * * *

“Absolutely not. It’s a terrible idea,” Detective Swanson was furious but Jack just grinned at her in response. If she’d still been in the police, Gwen thought, Jack would have infuriated her – probably regularly. 

“How many girls has this thing killed?” Jack asked her, Swanson hesitated before responding.

“Five. We found another body an hour ago.” 

“And the only thing we know is that all the attacks have happened in alleys. Somehow this thing knows where the girls will be and that they’re alone and can get there without being caught on any CCTV cameras. It’s all we’ve got to go on.”

“Which isn’t any reason to use one of your people as bait!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Gwen tried to reassure her, biting down on her annoyance. 

“We don’t even know how…” Swanson began but Jack interrupted her.

“Gwen is highly trained. She knows what she’s doing, and me and John will be within hearing distance, as soon as she shouts – we’ll be there.” Seeing Swanson open her mouth again, Jack continued. “Whether you like this or not, we’re doing it.” 

Swanson looked like she was about to argue again but then she shut her mouth firmly. Torchwood were outside her power.

Jack turned back to Gwen. Despite what he’d said, he looked concerned. Behind him John was looking uncomfortable and distracted. 

“We’re ready when you are,” he told her and then hugged her quickly, kissing her on the cheek. Gwen only smiled in return, turned and walked alone into the alley.

The sun was bright, the other end of the street clearly visible and with the comforting near presence of Jack and John, it should have been hard to be scared. 

But Gwen had seen the body of the girl earlier. Her neck had been red and raw and Gwen couldn’t stop her heart from beating faster.

Gwen had almost reached the end of the alley, disappointed that Jack’s plan had failed when she was suddenly plunged into darkness. The air chilled around her and a heavy patter of rain began to fall. 

She turned quickly to look behind her, but there was nobody there and she was suddenly nervously aware how far away John and Jack now were.

Turning back she realised that she could no longer see the end of the alley, seconds before it had only been a few feet away. She glanced between the two distant ends feeling trapped in the limitlessness of the alley. 

“Jack!” She shouted, beginning to back against the alley wall. “Jack! John!”

With a feeling of terror, her back hit something firm, but it was not the cold slippery surface of the wall. There was softness to it, warmth, a tall threatening presence and then hard hands wrapped around her neck. 

Gwen screamed and then pulled away, wrenching from the man's grasp. She flung herself backwards against the opposite wall, catching her first sight of him – tall and dark – his face menacing in the dim light.

As he came back towards her, she kicked out hard, knocking him back slightly and then fumbling pulled out her gun pointing it firmly at him. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she told him and he smiled. A chilling smile.

Without warning he seized her hand and spinning her, crushed it against the wall until the gun was forced from her fingers. With his other hand he seized her neck, pressing her face against the stones. 

His hand tightened, squeezing and she gasped painfully, the world turning a shade darker and then suddenly the pressure was gone and she could breathe again.

Warm arms caught her as she almost fell and she looked up into John’s worried face, he grinned at her briefly. 

“I guess we’ll have to find another way to get rid of you,” he told her. Gwen laughed weakly and was horrified to hear that it sounded more like a sob, but John wasn’t paying attention. He had looked away from her and his face collapsed for a moment before it hardened. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Gwen followed his gaze, Jack was on the ground, his weight pinning the man to the floor, light returning around them as the dark unnaturalness vanished. 

It highlighted their hair, the way Jack’s hand wrapped around the man’s arm, the vulnerable place at the base of a neck where the man’s shirt had torn slightly.

It highlighted the way Jack was gazing down at the man, his expression soft and oddly undone, undisguised longing in his eyes.


	6. Tread Softly

Jack knew he should stop pacing, that he was worrying Gwen and John, but he was too unsettled. His eyes kept slipping back to where the man - the murderer, he corrected himself - was tied to a chair, unconscious. 

“Do you two want a coffee?” Gwen asked suddenly. Turning to her, Jack noticed with a pang of guilt the sore, red marks on her neck.

“You can actually get that machine to work? I’ve flown easier spaceships,” John joked, unable to hide the hollowness in his voice. Jack turned away from them both again. He’d been avoiding looking at John since everything in the alley. 

This man, this strange boy, did something to him that he couldn’t explain – stirred something in him.

“Don’t tell Ianto, but I have a jar of instant hidden in my desk,” he heard Gwen tell John, her voice regaining some of its lightness. Although she had been trying to hide it, she was obviously still shaken by what had happened and that was Jack’s fault too. 

He’d thought, after the Doctor and the year that hadn’t happened that he’d been ready to take on leadership, to do it properly. Now he felt everything was escaping him again.

“Jack?” Gwen’s tone clearly suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d asked. “Do you want a coffee?” 

“No, I’m fine.”

“What’s going on, Jack?” John asked angrily as soon as she’d disappeared and Jack finally looked at him. Beneath the typical brashness, John seemed nervous. 

“Nothing’s going on,” he tried to reassure him, unsuccessfully.

“I saw how you looked at him. Even PC Tea and Sympathy noticed…” 

John might have said more, but beside them the murderer stirred, his eyes snapping open with no sense that there was a stage between wakefulness and sleeping.

Those eyes, hard and dark, made Jack feel uncomfortable – they didn’t seem to fit. John seemed frozen, his eyes fixed upon the now conscious figure. 

The silent tableau was broken by the sound of Ianto, Tosh and Owen’s return. They were laughing.

“All right,” Owen called as they walked through the door, Ianto in the lead. He froze, terrified, his eyes fixed on the murderer. Behind him Owen continued to talk, not seeing what the room contained. “You should have seen Ianto, he was incredible – people just told him whatever we wanted…” He trailed off. 

Gwen reappeared, clutching a mug of coffee, and smiled tightly at the others.

“Is that him?” Tosh asked softly, Jack didn’t respond but saw Gwen nod. 

Without another word being spoken they settled into their places, waiting for the interrogation to begin. John stepped back, fading into the background and Jack, reluctant to start, pulled himself together and stepped forward.

“What are you?” He asked, but the man just stared at him, his eyes hard. 

“Who are you?” Jack tried again and was greeted with a cold, calculated smile.

“Ianto Jones.” 

The words hung in the air. It wasn’t that it was an uncommon name, it should have just been an obvious coincidence but something in the way he said it told Jack than it wasn’t. And the name fitted, suited him in a way that it didn’t suit Ianto.

“What?” He heard Owen ask behind him, but things were slipping into place for Jack and almost before he knew it his gun was in his hand as he turned seamlessly and raised it to Ianto’s head. Ianto’s eyes widened in fear but not in surprise. 

“Shit, Jack,” he heard Owen say and nearby Tosh gasped, but Jack ignored them both.

“What’s going on _Ianto_?” He asked, seeing the other man’s lips thin as he swallowed uncomfortably, struggling for words. 

“Jack,” Gwen said next to him, her hand on his arm. “Jack that’s Ianto, remember? Our Ianto.”

“But it doesn’t feel right, it hasn’t felt right for days, he hasn’t been right. I look at him,” he gestured at the murderer, “And I feel more than when I look at you.” He heard the man in the chair laugh. Ianto remained silent. 

“Jack. This isn’t right, you know it isn’t right,” Gwen tried to make him look at her but he didn’t take his eyes off Ianto. “I don’t know what he did to you but you know what he tried to do to me… You’re not thinking right.”

“No, this is the first time I’ve been thinking straight for days.” 

“Jack, he tried to kill me!”

“Jack,” Ianto’s voice was pleading and Jack felt his certainty waiver for a moment, although he refused to show it. What if he was wrong? What if he was _still_ wrong? 

To his side there was a sudden rending sound of bonds being broken and within seconds the murderer was loose, his arms wrapping around Tosh’s neck as he pulled her close to him. Nobody had been watching him.

Jack turned, pointing his gun at the pair and around him he heard the others drawing theirs. 

“Let her go,” Ianto shouted, his voice strained.

“Don’t shoot him,” Jack ordered them and he felt more than saw Gwen and Owen’s worried looks. Tosh’s pale face was flushed and she was gasping for air 

“Jack!” Gwen said as Ianto spoke again.

“We have to save her.” 

Jack hesitated: he knew it had to be him – his decision, his responsibility, his shot. But he didn’t want to do this.

* * * * *

Ianto shuddered to a halt, leaning against the tourist information office, his breathing painfully ragged. His fingers slipped along the wall until he found the place where one of the wooden slats was loose and prised the hidden key from beneath it. 

It had been a hard journey. He’d had no money, no idea where he was and there’d been too much chance of being forced to a hospital if he’d asked anyone for help. Instead he’d travelled slowly and secretively across the city.

Again and again, frustratingly, he’d had to stop as the pain increased or the world twisted around him, sinking to his knees in the dirt. He was desperately aware of time moving past him. 

He only glanced around the office briefly as he locked the door behind him, and a strangely disconnected part of his mind noted that it was a mess. He pushed the thought aside and headed for the stairs.

He knew something was wrong before he reached the main Hub. He could hear the shouting, but it didn’t prepare him for what he found there. 

Nobody noticed him. All their eyes, and their guns, were fixed upon where he...  another he, was stood, his hands wrapped around Tosh’s neck. Choking her.

Almost before Ianto could react, Jack fired. The bullet buried itself into his double’s head and he fell backwards in an untidy arc, pulling Tosh to her knees. In a moment Adam was by her side and with a sickening feeling Ianto saw how she gripped his arm, sinking against his chest, comfortable and comforted. 

For a moment everyone relaxed. He could feel the tension in the room dissipating and then Owen glanced backwards at the door, towards him. His eyes widened and turning quickly he raised his gun.

“Fuck,” he spat. 

Ianto pressed himself, subconsciously, against the door and raised his hands above his head, his arms screaming against the effort. He was uncomfortably aware of how he must look - filthy, pale and covered in blood - the mirror image of the man who had just attacked one of them. He couldn’t stop his eyes resting for a moment on where his double lay dead at Jack’s feet. Turning, Jack raised his gun again, like a terrible premonition.

“How the hell did you get in?” Owen spat at him. 

“I work here,” the words hurt his throat and he could hear its roughness as Owen looked sharply at Jack.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked, his voice surprisingly soft. Their eyes met. 

“Ianto. Ianto Jones,” He refused to look away, willing Jack to remember. Pleading him silently.

“For fuck’s sake,” Owen swore. “Not this again.” 

“Don’t believe him.” Adam snapped harshly. He stood behind Jack as if he belonged there and angrily Ianto stepped forward, knowing almost immediately that it was a mistake.

“He did this - he can change people’s memories,” he managed to say as he felt the world tilt strangely around him, an inescapable force dragging him towards the ground. 

Everything went black for a moment. Then he felt large, warm hands gripping him, pulling him back to consciousness as they lowered him gently to the ground. The hands continued to hold him even once he was safely there, supporting him as he sat. He looked up blearily at Jack, aware of Owen’s fingers, professionally exploring his throat, checking his pulse.

“Jack.” The word felt as if it had to travel a long way, but he forced it out. He needed to know that it was going to be all right, that he’d told them quickly enough. 

“Ianto?”

He laughed in uncertain relief, the sound catching in his throat, choking him. He was conscious of the feel of Jack’s hand against his back, supporting him as the painful coughs shuddered to a halt. 

“He said you’d forgotten me,” he tried to tell him, the words slurring together as unconsciousness claimed him again.

* * * * *

John watched in disgust as Jack held Ianto softly in his arms, his eyes fixed upon him. The boy was murmuring something, too quiet to hear. Then he sank backwards, his head lolling to the side. They waited, uncomfortably silent, for a moment and John forced himself to release the breath he had been holding.

If he was lucky the boy would die. 

“He’s alive,” Whatever his personal opinion about his patient the doctor in Owen was clearly angry. “Stable. Looks like he’s been fucking tortured though.”

John glanced furiously at Adam, but he ignored him, his eyes fixed on Jack. This was Adam’s fault and as soon as he had found a way out of this John was going to make him suffer. 

“Look after him,” Jack pushed Ianto into Owen’s arms and then, standing slowly, turned to face Adam, raising his gun again.

“He’s lying,” Adam tried. 

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” Jack snarled at him, his anger spilling out.

“Jack, you have to trust me,” Adam reached out to touch him. Almost instinctively John pulled out his gun: he wouldn’t let him touch Jack. Across the room he heard another gun being cocked. 

He turned slightly to see Tosh, her eyes wide and glistening, her gun pointed at Jack, and felt another surge of anger at Adam. And at himself – he should never have given him time to do this much damage.

“Tosh, don’t be stupid,” Gwen begged her. 

“Are you going to shoot me, Toshiko?” Jack asked, refusing to lower his gun. John saw her flinch.

“You’re not thinking,” she told him. “You can’t hurt him… I know him, Jack. I love him. Please.” 

“Making the same mistakes again?” Jack challenged her. She hesitated for a moment and then, in tears, let her arm fall to her side. Carefully Gwen took the gun from her and John saw the stricken look on Adam’s face.

“Please,” Toshiko begged Jack again but, ignoring her, he turned back to Adam. 

“What have you done to us?” He demanded.

“You don’t even know him,” Adam sounded desperate. “How can you believe a man you don’t know… a man who dreams he’s a murderer?” John watched Jack smile mercilessly in an unexpected glimpse of their past. 

“And how would you know what he dreams? You never did say how you found out about the Dreamscape.”

Adam looked ready to bolt, his eyes darting from side to side. To Tosh, who was sobbing against Gwen’s shoulders and then to John. John raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled. Adam had made this mess and he could deal with it himself. 

“You can’t let him do this,” Adam spat at him and then turned quickly back to Jack, his eyes scared and angry. “It was _his_ plan, he made me do this.”

John moved quickly, reacting, pure instinct and no thought. His fist sent Adam sprawling to the floor, his nose dripping blood. He hadn’t even though to fire the gun, just used its hardness to cause more pain. 

He turned quickly, suddenly aware of what he’d done. Jack was staring at him, his head tilted slightly. Not believing Adam yet, but worryingly uncertain.

“He’s panicking, Jack,” John said quickly, too quickly, he realised. “He knows you trust me… he’s trying to confuse you.” 

“It’s not felt right, has it?” Adam spoke from the floor, his voice venomous. “You and him. It doesn’t make sense.” 

John glanced at him quickly and then turned back to Jack. He’d know him too long, he was too easy to read now. He could see how tired and frustrated and confused he looked. Jack looked like he wanted to escape.

“Owen, Gwen – I want you to put him in the cells,” Jack said firmly pointing at Adam. “Then do what you can for him,” he glanced back at where the real Ianto lay. 

  

  1. “John. My office. Now.”   
  



Almost as soon as they were through the door, Jack threw John against the wall, pinning him there. John almost gasped at the impact, but held himself together. He had to act this perfectly. He’d done too much damage already.

“Is he telling the truth?” Jack growled at him. 

“Do you have to ask?” John tried to push him away, to struggle out from beneath him but Jack’s grip was too strong.

“I don’t know.” 

“So you’d rather believe somebody you know has been fucking with you? Do you really hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Jack snapped at him and then let go suddenly, turning away as he ran his hand through his hair. John waited for a few seconds in silence and then reached out to touch his arm. 

“You said when you looked at him you didn’t feel anything. What about when you look at me?” It had been a long time since John had felt this vulnerable, laid bare. It had been Jack then as well. It was always Jack.

“I… it’s…” Jack was clearly struggling for an answer. 

“Do you feel nothing?” John pressed him, and Jack finally turned back to face him, shaking his head. “What do you feel, Jack?”

“It’s complicated. It feels complicated.” 

“Well, we were always that… but we were fantastic as well.” John stepped forward and pulled him into a kiss, ignoring Jack’s hesitation.

* * * * *  


Jack wasn’t sure what to think anymore. He wanted to relax into the kiss, to enjoy it. This felt right, this felt certain, but he knew as soon as they broke apart, as soon as the raw attraction was gone, the world would stop making sense again.

They were interrupted by a tentative knock, Gwen was standing in the doorway. 

“Ianto… whoever he is… he says he needs to talk to you, Jack.” He nodded sharply in response and pulled away from John, following her into the Hub. Owen and Tosh were waiting at the door to the cells. Tosh could not quite meet his eyes.

“How is he?” He asked Owen. 

“He’ll be all right, he doesn’t look like he’s eaten in a while and there was a lot of blood loss but…” Owen shrugged. “Anyway I’ve only patched him up for now, just in case he turns out to be a blood thirsty murderer – wouldn’t want him back on his feet right away.”

The others followed Jack down into the cells, hanging back once they reached the bottom of the stairs. Only John remained with him, just a step behind. Ianto was waiting for them, leaning against the glass. 

“What did you do to us?” Jack asked, not allowing him the chance to speak first. This was his interrogation, not another chance for Ianto to scare and confuse them.

“I gave you new memories, repressed the others, it’s the only way I can survive. I was here before.” Ianto spoke quickly and then, hesitating, looked at John. “But he saved me, he wanted a way into the team – we kidnapped the real Ianto Jones, that was him earlier, and then we changed your memories… it was _his_ plan.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Jack said more firmly than he felt. “You’re desperate. You just want to turn us against each other.”

“I’m not. I only ever wanted to help you, he… he…” Ianto paused for a moment, his face was still despairing but he smiled suddenly. “I can prove it.” 

Jack almost took a step back. He didn’t know if he wanted this proof, this final nail in the coffin. Ianto’s fingers curled through the hole in the glass and when he spoke again his voice was low – almost seductive.

“I can give the memories back, I just need to touch you.” 

“We can’t trust him, Jack,” John said quickly. “What if he changes our memories again? What if he hurts us?”

Jack was silent for a moment testing the idea, desperate to accept this excuse. Finally he nodded. 

“He’s right, we can’t trust you.”

“Please, you have to.” 

“I trust him.” Tosh’s voice was quiet. Jack turned to look at her. She was standing behind the others, pale and tearful and determined.

“I can’t let you do this,” Jack told her, already knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. 

“I trust him. He won’t hurt me. Please.”

* * * * *

Jack stood too close to Adam, his gun in his hand and his stance threatening. Adam felt suddenly very small. They were alone in the cells. Jack had told the others to leave them. 

“How does this work?” Jack asked.

“When I put new memories in, I have to suppress others – the ones that contradict them; I can release those memories again. They’re not gone, they’re just buried.” 

He had soon realised that all he could hope for now was to convince them that John had been behind this. That it was his fault. He had shown them he could be useful… that they could trust him… If they knew he’d been forced… The thoughts were broken and disconnected, but they were all he had left and he clung to them.

“And what will happen to the false memories?” Jack asked him. 

“They’ll still be there… I can’t take them away,” Adam admitted.

“Can’t or won’t?” He hesitated for a moment too long and saw a gleam almost of triumph in Jack’s eyes. “There is a way?” 

“It’s like brain damage, I have to damage bits of the brain to make the memories go away… and these aren’t… they’re not normal memories, they’re not always in the right places. If I try to delete them completely I might do serious damage…” He trailed off uncomfortably and was aware that Jack was watching him intently.

“Did you do that to any of us?” He asked. Adam could only nod in reply, his throat tight. “Can you give us those memories back?” 

“No.”

“How many of us? How many memories have you taken?” Jack asked angrily. Adam took a deep breath before answering, knowing that he had to be truthful and dreading it. 

“Tosh. I took her memories of Lisa because I wanted her to love me,” his voice broke slightly. “Ianto, I took…” he couldn’t say, he just shook his head and powered on. “You. John told me take all the memories of you and Ianto. That you were in love.”

Jack took a step backwards, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“But I didn’t, I didn’t take them all,” he tried to reassure him, but Jack would barely look at him. “He told me to but I didn’t. Jack.” 

“Fine,” Jack replied at last. “Fine, we’ll do this. If you hurt her, if you do anything to any of us, I’ll destroy you.”

“What’s going to happen to me? After this, what’s going to happen?” Adam asked. 

“I don’t know,” Jack answered coldly as he pushed him roughly up the steps to the Hub.

The others were waiting for them, John sat with his head in his hands and Toshiko stood in the centre of the room. His beautiful Toshiko. She nodded slightly at him and he walked slowly to her, conscious of Jack’s gun focused on his head. 

He pressed his hands gently against her cheeks, cradling her face. She didn’t move away. For a moment he held back, desperate not to do this and a small, quickly stifled sob, broke from his throat.

“Shhh…” It was a soft gentling sound. 

“You won’t love me anymore,” he told her and heard the sound of the gun being cocked. “You won’t love me.”

And then squeezing his eyes shut he slowly began to unlock the buried memories. She gasped, almost flinching away from him but he kept his eyes shut until at last the job was done. He let his hands fall to his sides. Defeated, he looked at her again. 

She moved quickly away, refusing to look at him.

He worked through the others listlessly, Owen first and then Gwen, seeing the growing disgust in their eyes. 

As he was working on Gwen, he noticed Ianto stood in the doorway to the medical bay watching them. The others ignored his presence. Once he had finished Adam turned to Jack but the man held up a hand.

“Ianto first.” 

Ianto froze in the doorway and then, pulling himself together, he walked over to Adam. Even then he couldn’t prevent himself from flinching as Adam reached out to touch him and Adam had to hide a grim smile of satisfaction. It didn’t take long to retrieve all the memories he could.

Finally it was Jack’s turn. He worked carefully and quickly, unlocking the memories, feeling the building anger. Everyone was focused upon them. It wasn’t until he’d finished that they realised John had drawn his gun and was pointing it at Jack. 

“You know you can’t kill me, no matter how many times you try,” Jack’s voice was oddly flat as around him the team drew their guns. They stood silent for a moment and then John lowered his gun, admitting defeat.

* * * * *

Owen’s head was pounding. His memories were unorganised and distorted. No wonder he’d been miserable for the last two days. He looked over at Tosh, worried about her, just in time to see Ianto, the real Ianto, approaching. 

She glanced up at him and then turned quickly back to her computer screen, her face frozen and scared.

“I thought…” Ianto began, “I wanted…” Tosh’s head shook slightly, almost unnoticeably. Owen could understand her fear. It was a strange feeling looking at Ianto now – recognition and guilt and loss, and he’d only been his friend. 

“Ianto, mate,” Owen called out to him and the boy turned, his expression guilty. “I need to sort out those wounds properly. Now.”

They didn’t talk as Ianto settled himself on the gurney and Owen began to clean and stitch the worst of the wounds, removing a large sliver of glass from his arm.

“You’ll need to give her time,” Owen told him after a while. 

“I just wanted…” Ianto winced as he pulled the thread through, “We were friends.”

“I know. And so does she. It’ll be fine, you know Tosh. But right now it’s difficult.” 

“What’s it like?” Even as he concentrated on the stitching Owen could feel Ianto staring at him intently.

“Like having two sets of memories,” he told him truthfully, “I know you’re Ianto but I remember he is too. I can work out which one is right if I think about it – he feels less real – but it is a bit confusing.” 

They lapsed into silence for a few moments.

“What did they do to you?” Owen asked him eventually. 

“Is that a medical question?”

“Not really. Morbid curiosity mostly. Plus for some reason he thought it would be a good idea to convince me that we’re really good friends – so I might be unnaturally nice to you for a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll try to shake the habit. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“Fair enough. I think we’re all done. Have you eaten anything? That _is_ a medical question, by the way.” Ianto shook his head. “All right, well I could go and make you a sandwich, although you shouldn’t eat too much at first or you’ll be sick. Maybe I could make you a coffee or something…”

“If you make coffee, doesn’t the world implode?” 

“You know, Jones, this disliking you thing might not be as hard as I thought. I’ll leave you to it.”

Owen headed out of the medical bay and was thankful to bump almost immediately into Gwen. He caught her arm. 

“Is he alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, annoying as hell but not even challenging. Look I need to head out half an hour. Can you keep an eye on Tosh for me? If Jack needs me tell him I’ll be back soon.” 

“Sure.”

* * * * *

John was handcuffed to Jack’s chair.

“Why?” Jack asked him. 

“I was bored,” he replied flippantly. Jack shook his head.

“No. Why?” John closed his mouth, refusing to answer. Slowly and securely Jack walked towards him, his fingers stroked John’s neck and then pressed painfully against his pulse, pulling his neck back and up. It wouldn’t do any damage, but it hurt. “I want you to tell me the truth, John.” 

“Do you remember the first time I saw you torture someone, Jack?” He hissed at him. Jack laughed and pulled his fingers away.

“You were sick everywhere. It was disgusting. I told you to leave then as well, if I remember rightly.” 

“But I stayed.”

“Why did you do this, John? I don’t get it. What was in this for you?” 

“Because you sent me away as if I didn’t even matter. Just like before,” John told him. “Just like you always do.”

“So it was revenge.” 

“No,” John tried to tell him but Jack wasn’t listening. He leaned heavily against the wall.

“What do I do?” He sounded tired. “I don’t even know how to get rid of him. How do you kill something that doesn’t really exist?” 

“Last time you used retcon, made him disappear… but I guess that didn’t work so well,” John told him and Jack groaned. He watched him for a second and then made up his mind.

“He’s not invincible, Jack. He’s made up of how people remember him – if you shoot him – if everyone here remembers that he died. Then that’s what he is. Dead.” 

“You want me to execute him?” Jack was staring at John intently, his expression carefully unreadable.

“Yes.” 

“I can’t do that."

“You used to be able to. You used to be the man to go to for… well, for a lot of things.” 

“I’ve changed.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. John could see Jack thinking. The set of his shoulders spoke volumes about his frustration and confusion. 

“I’ll do it,” John said eventually. “Give me a gun, set me free and I’ll kill him. For you.”

* * * * *

Tosh hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. She could see him, sat on the floor, his head resting against the glass. She didn’t know if she could talk to him. She’d almost decided to leave when he suddenly looked round at her and scrambled to his feet. 

“Toshiko.” He smiled broadly and something uncomfortable fluttered in her stomach.

“What’s your name?” She asked trying to keep her voice even. “What should I call you?”

“We don’t have names,” he told her, “We don’t use them – they would give us too much power over each other. Mostly we’re alone anyway. But I was Adam once, I’d like it if you called me Adam.” 

Tosh looked away again, not wanting to come any closer, ignoring the stirrings of sympathy. She’d been fooled by Mary once as well and she’d already let him use her enough.

“Why me?” She asked.

“I don’t understand?”

“Why did you want me?”

“Because I loved you, because you were lonely. Like me.” His voice was soft. That same voice had whispered to her in the mornings, gentle against the back of her neck. 

“I have to get out of here.” Tosh was already half way to the stairs when he called to her.

“Do you love me?” She hesitated but didn’t turn around. “Please,” he begged her. “It was real, we were real. I know you remember…” 

“How could I love you after what you did?” She made her voice as cold as she could manage and fled.

She was barely through the door when she bumped into Owen, carrying a bunch of slightly wilting flowers. He shoved them ungraciously into her hands. 

“These are for you. Sorry they’re not more impressive, most of the shops were shut.” She blinked in surprise for a moment.

“But you don’t do flowers?” 

“Well,” he replied slowly. “We’re friends and I thought you might need something to cheer you up. Just friends though.”

She laughed, but it was uncomfortably close to a sob. Without warning, he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.” He told her and she nodded against his shoulder. They stood in silence for a few seconds.

The loud bang of Jack’s office door flying open broke them apart. John was stood at the top of the stairs, a gun in his hand. He made his way quickly towards them and gestured for Tosh and Owen to move aside. They edged carefully away, Tosh overly aware that she wasn’t carrying a weapon.

In a moment John was through the door to the cells.  It slammed closed behind him and with a terrifying click Tosh heard the door lock. 

Jack stumbled out of his office, his lip bleeding.

“Sorry, he took my gun and the keys.” 

“What’s he going to do?” Tosh asked and then, realisation dawning, flung herself against the door, trying to force it open. “No!”

* * * * *

Adam straightened as he heard the door close.

“Toshiko?” He’d known she couldn’t mean it. 

It was a moment before he realised that it was John coming down the stairs.

“You made a mistake Memory Boy. If you’d left me out of this I might have saved you.” 

“Don’t do this,” Adam begged him.

“Sorry, I made a promise and I’m a changed man.” John smiled coldly. 

“You know, I’m not even sure this will kill you. I’m guessing you’re tougher than that. But they’ll think you’re dead. Get too close to these people again and I warrant you won’t be feeling too good.”

John unlocked the glass door and kicked it open, raising the gun. 

“Please.”

* * * * *

The crack of the gun thudded heavily through the room muffled by the door. Ianto saw Tosh, who had been typing frantically on her computer, her fingers shaking as she tried to call up the CCTV of the cells, freeze. She stood still for a moment, almost strong, and then seemed to collapse in on herself. 

There were no tears, no anger, but her grief was palpable. It filled the room. Gwen went to her quickly, took her wrists gently and led her through the arch to the couch.

Owen looked at Jack and Ianto felt noticeably, uncomfortably on the outside, separated from the others. 

“Take her home, you and Gwen, make sure she’s all right,” Jack told Owen quietly, “I’ll deal with John.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes, this is my problem. Anyway, what’s he going to do? Kill me?”

Owen nodded briefly. He hesitated for a moment beside Ianto and then squeezed his shoulder before disappearing, leaving the two of them alone. Jack’s back was to him and Ianto couldn’t see his expression. 

He suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore.

As he turned to leave, Jack looked at him for the first time. Ianto saw the movement from the corner of his eye. He hesitated for a second and then quickly fled the room, not meeting his boss’ eyes. He retreated to the safe familiarity of the archives. They were a mess. 

He didn’t know why he was avoiding Jack. Why he couldn’t yet bear to face him. Instead he leant heavily against one of the filing cabinets and waited. He didn’t emerge again until he’d heard Owen, Tosh and Gwen leave; and then some time later Jack and John.

Once he was sure he was alone he showered, washing away the dirt and the grime. He ran his fingers over the old and new bruises, feeling their soreness, careful not to disturb Owen’s dressings. 

He took his time, dragging out the experience. He didn’t want to go home yet, knowing that it was ransacked, filled with memories and mementoes of Adam.

He didn’t stop until the water was running cold, and then, dressing in new clothes, he wandered listlessly around the Hub. He tried at first to tidy, but there was too much to take in, too much was wrong, subtle uncomfortable differences. 

At last he retrieved his hidden diary, settled in the Medical Bay and began to read.

It scared him how many of the things written in the book were gone now, irretrievable. The diary was no replacement, it had only ever been meant as a reminder, not as a memory itself. The pages felt empty and useless, devoid of meaning and he cursed his own inability to collect and gather his feelings. Even in his private words they were hidden away. 

After a while Errol joined him, curling up as a comforting presence by his side.

* * * * *

“Why are we here, Jack?” John asked. They were in a plot of abandoned land at the edge of the docks.

“Philosophical questions already?” Jack’s attempt at lightness seemed empty against the dullness of his voice. He was staring across the dark water; the grey light of dawn hadn’t touched it yet. “There’s going to be rift activity here in five minutes.” 

“You’re sending me away? After…”

“What did you expect, John? You killed me…” 

“It was a crime of passion. Anyway, so did Owen.” Jack ignored him and John felt a moment of unbidden rage that Jack still wouldn’t look at him.

“You kidnapped a member of my team, tortured them…” 

“So this is about Ianto bloody Jones?”

Jack fell silent then and turned to look at him, his face impassive. 

“Is he worth it, Jack? Is he worth what you’ll do to him? You know you’re going to damage him,” John kept pressing him until he saw that he’d struck a nerve. “He’ll end up just like me…”

“He’s nothing like you,” Jack replied firmly. 

“Really? I was innocent… unspoilt… you turned me into this.”

“Ianto would never shoot somebody in cold blood.” 

Something snapped in John then and angrily he pushed Jack away, his fists pounding against his chest, willing him to fight back. But Jack remained still and unmovable.

“I did that for you. I did that because I…” 

In anger he pulled Jack into a kiss, pressing their bodies together. Desperation and pain seeping from him. Jack pulled back slightly, although their noses were still almost touching.

“I love you,” John whispered to him. “And you loved me, that wasn’t fake, it wasn’t planted – you wanted _me_. I could stay… here. Work with you…” 

“Why?”

It was a question that John had avoided thinking about, not willing to ask it of himself but unable to hide from it anymore. 

The truth was he’d liked it – liked feeling like a big damn hero. He had liked being part of a team. Liked being surrounded by people who cared for him – who he could joke with and rely upon, who would protect him and who he could kill for. And he’d liked being with Jack.

“I want to do… I want to help you, help with all of this.” 

“You’ve never wanted to help anyone.”

“I’ve changed. I could be a better person.” Jack shook his head slightly. “Make me a better person. If you love me…” 

“I never loved you,” Jack’s voice was cold and hard as he interrupted him. “I felt guilty. It was only ever guilt. I don’t love you. I never loved you. Why do you think I left you?”

He pushed John away forcefully and he stumbled across the uneven ground, his hands clutching at his stomach against a pain that wasn’t physical. He could feel the rift opening behind him, pulling at him. 

“Is this where you say good bye?” He spat at Jack, but the man just shook his head, turned and walked away. He didn’t even look back.

* * * * *

Jack looked in despair at the paperwork on his desk, there was too much to sort out. It made his head ache and the team were shattered. They needed time off. He needed time off. 

He could still smell John on his clothes. That made him ache as well.

He’d known that the relationship wasn’t right, it had felt wrong but that didn’t mean that part of him hadn’t wanted it; the desire and the closeness and the acceptance. John knew who he was, he had never expected any better of him. 

It was a while before he was aware that someone was watching him and he looked up to find Ianto stood in his doorway. Jack smiled at him.

“Are you all right, Ianto?” He knew it was an inadequate question and for a while there was no response. 

Jack watched him, giving him time and space. He’d always let Ianto move first. Aware of the problems they faced and frightened that he might scare him away otherwise.

Ianto had obviously had a shower and found new clothes, but still looked oddly scruffy – covered in bruises and cuts, his shirt sleeves rolled up. 

The memories, when they’d come back, had for a moment felt overwhelming. Like the first breath when he returned to life and escaping the agony of the death tasted the air again. They’d made him feel more secure than he had in days. Grounded. Forgiven. 

Whatever John had said he needed this too much to lose it now. 

Ianto held up his diary. Post-it notes bristled from amongst its pages, vivid in pinks and greens and yellows.

“These are all the things I don’t remember, I marked them,” Ianto told him and hesitated for a moment. “They’re all about you.” 

Jack nodded gently.

“Do you remember _anything_?” He asked him unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer. 

“Bits and pieces, they don’t make much sense – they’re just moments. But I… I remember him telling me he was going to take the memories away. That he was going to take you away and it hurt before he even started. It felt like I was dying.”

Ianto’s eyes glistened with the threat of tears and he quickly looked down at the ground. It only took a moment for Jack to cross the space between them. He took his wrists gently, relieved that Ianto did not pull away and ran his fingers up his arms. He could feel new scars forming, new wounds to add to the familiar collection.

Ianto breathed out deeply but didn’t look up. With one hand he reached to cup the back of Ianto’s head, fingers brushing lightly through his hair. Jack forced Ianto to look at him again and when he did, refused to let him break the gaze. 

“Did we love each other?” Ianto asked after a moment. “The diary doesn’t say.”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied honestly. 

“What do we do now?”

Jack wasn’t sure if there was a right answer, or even an answer. But he knew what he wanted. Gently he pulled Ianto into a kiss, feeling his lips part slightly, his hand moving down to rest against his neck. 

It was not a first kiss for either of them, there were memories of other kisses, but it was the first that they both remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1 – Both the main title and the chapter title are from this W.B.Yeats poem (which I think is lovely):
> 
> HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
> Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
> The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
> Of night and light and the half-light,  
> I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
> But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
> I have spread my dreams under your feet,  
> Tread softly because you tread on my dreams
> 
> A/N 2 – Just because Ianto is Welsh doesn't mean he is interested in dragons, however, because Ianto is Ianto he is definitely interested in dragons (*winks*). The book Ianto reads from is 'Flight of Dragons' by Peter Dickinson, Ianto highly recommends it and after all he does know everything. Ianto is also (clearly) a fan of Terry Pratchett. Just so you know. ;)
> 
> A/N 3 - My policy on permissions for use of my work is that you don't in fact need my permission to make art, record podfic, remix, critique, translate, save, share or otherwise reuse and interact with anything I've done. I'd love it if you'd share a link with me when you're done.
> 
> Any comments are also welcome – I'd love to hear what worked for you and (truly) what didn't or about those really obvious typos that my mind can't see anymore. If you don't want to comment publicly, feel free to e-mail me. Everything and anything will be loved and cherished.


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